The Songbird
by distorted focus
Summary: Peeta is going through the terrible torture of hijacking, when he is rescued by a strange woman who claims to defy the Capitol and promises him to reunite him with Katniss. During his recovery, the rebels advance on the Capitol and he deals with his conflicting memories in hope to see Katniss again. But he also learns President Snow's darkest secret... (Mockingjay spoilers, OC)
1. Rescue

I don't know how much time has passed since they captured me. I remember the Capitol picking my limp body from the ground and incarcerating me in this cell. The cell that grew to be my greatest nightmare come to life. It's small and completely empty except for a poor excuse of a mattress and an appalling toilet. They didn't torture me at first, rather just questioned me about Katniss, the rebellion, the Quarter Quell. As if I'd know.

In retrospect, it is obvious that there was some great plan in motion neither Katniss nor I knew about. I shudder when her name forms in my mind and I can feel memories lurking into my consciousness. Memories of her sneering at me as I lie in a cave, half-dead, starved, and she wiggles food in front of me. My hand cupping her face gently in a dim room, she whispers "Stay with me." Her gleeful laugh as the tracker jackers she released pursue and sting me, over and over again. No, no, that's wrong.

I wrap my arms around myself and try to breathe, deep, even gulps of air. This happens a lot now, and I fear that whatever they are doing to me when they take me to that sterile, horrible room at the end of the corridor, it's slowly draining my sanity. As sick as it may seem, I have the yearning wish for them to beat the life out of me again as they did after the first interview. Until then, they had treated me well. But after the interview it went from beatings to downright torment, physical and mental in equal measure. Watching Darius and Lavinia getting tortured and killed was almost too much. I screamed my head off and pounded my hands bloody on the security glass, the walls, everything.

After it, I thought that I had hit rock bottom. End of the line. That there was no lower I could sink. But I was wrong, so wrong. The doctors patched me up and the real horrors started. Every couple of days, they would take me to the room at the end of the corridor and sit me down in the chair that haunts both my waking hours and my nightmares. They inject me with something and show me videos of Katniss in all kinds of varieties. I didn't notice anything odd in the beginning. But as they went on, things seemed… Different than I remembered.

I don't know what is real anymore. Sometimes I think that I remember her smile and the gentle way she touched me. Sometimes she is a cruel and heartless creature who was always bent on killing me. A mutt. She's a… No. I feel like crying. Who is this girl in my memories? I can't forget about Katniss. I can't, I can't, I mustn't. By now I have realized that the Capitol is changing me into one of their muttations, a soulless killing machine that hates the woman he once loved more than anything in his life. The last interview they made me do seems ages ago, although it could only be days just as well. I'm sure they won't make me do any more of them, since I've been trying so hard to fight what they are doing to me that I managed to warn District 13 about the bombing. They have other plans now. Drug me, change me, make me go on a rampage and kill Katniss.

This is it, then. I know what I have to do, before they take my last ounce of sanity from me. Pure tranquillity settles over me like a warm blanket. I have protected Katniss as best as I could since the day our names were reaped, maybe even before then. The only way I can protect her now is to prevent the Capitol from turning me into a brainwashed assassin. By ending my own life. I have to die.

Good. It's been a long time coming. I shouldn't even be alive anymore, I should have died a hundred deaths in the two Hunger Games. When the agonizing fever rolled over me from blood poisoning. When it seemed like all my blood had drained from the tear in my leg. When my heart stopped after hitting the force field.

Curious, stripped of all fear in the wake of my suicide plan, I examine my cell. And then I see it, a chink in the armor, a flaw in the Capitol's system. The small shelf they use to deliver what little food I get through a shutter. Its edges are sharp. I'm sure that if I muster enough strength, I could drive it into the back of my neck.

Just as I'm contemplating the best way to face my spine against the edge, I hear muffled sounds from the back of the corridor. I don't pay them much attention at first, but they seem to get closer, louder with time. A scream and then – gunfire? Two terrified-looking guards pass my cell without bothering to glance at me, another bursts from the door further along the corridor.

"Intruders! They're after the boy!" More clattering, glass getting smashed, screams.

"Where's the rest of the squad? The doctors?", one of the guards asks.

"Dead. All dead. They have a woman with them – she…", but his answer is cut off as the door bursts open and I press myself up against the glass to see who comes through, my heart soars, hoping it's Katniss – Katniss who came to rescue me. But at the same time I feel terror. She'll get hurt – no, she'll hurt me. No, wrong. Not real. But it isn't Katniss who walks through the door.

The woman the guard talked about in a fearful voice is nothing like Katniss, but I hear my breath catch at the sight of her. Long, almost white hair shimmers in the electric light. Her beautiful, pale face wears an expression of outrage as her eyes – grey and piercing – swiftly scan the cells lining the walkway.

Everything about her is white, the long billowing cloak that flows down the left side of her body asymmetrically, the light but clearly armored long-sleeved jacket, the military-grade pants – even her boots. Only the sword in her right hand isn't white, but a flash of silver that shoots up with blurred speed, and the unlucky Peacekeeper nearest to her hits the ground, blood gushing from the deadly wound in his neck. The other two raise their guns, terror in their eyes as if they are facing an angry angel of death. Their attempt is futile. Before they can fire even a single shot, two well-aimed bullets fly past the woman in white and the Peacekeepers are torn from their feet, moving no more. Suddenly I realize what the guard had said: _They're after the boy._ Me.

"That's the last of them, Ma'am.", a woman's voice says. A sharpshooter, judging by the long barrel of her sniper rifle as I see her come into view. She's dressed in black and her eyes are covered by goggles, making it impossible to read her expression. I think she looks stern. By her side is a man in similar clothing, but his rifle looks more as if made for closer combat. Blood streaks his face from a wound on his temple, but his dark eyes dance with amusement. His black hair is damp and sweaty, sticking to his forehead and his chiselled features.

"Didn't think you'd make it in here, Hawkie. Confined spaces, guerrilla-like fights, close combat. You fold like a cheap suit when something comes too close.", the man says jokingly. The woman snorts.

"Shut your big mouth, Waltz. I can put a bullet through anything, no matter how close it gets.", she retorts. I almost laugh at the cynical tone in her voice, but the woman in white captures my attention.

"Did you fry the surveillance system before we entered, Hawkie?", she asks as she walks across the corridor, taking in the terrified faces turned to her.

"Of course, Ma'am.", the woman named Hawkie answers at once.

"It makes me sick what they did here.", the woman in white – I decide to nickname her Blue Jay for now, since her voice is musical and feathery – says.

"Not just you, Ma'am.", mutters Waltz.

"Sedate the two girls. We'll drop them off where the rebels will pick them up quickly. Be gentle to them, they have been through a lot.", Blue Jay says. As her two guards move to the cells, I can hear Johanna screaming and Annie pleading. I wonder why she didn't tell them to sedate me, why she singles me out.

For a moment, I feel overwhelmed by terror that she's planning to torture me too, just like the Capitol, for some twisted reason. She said "the rebels", as if she wasn't a part of them. Who is this woman, this beautiful, fierce creature with the gentle voice? Weakly, I back up to the walls of my cell when I see her walk down the hallway and turn her eyes to me. She types a code into a console and my cell door hisses open, but she doesn't enter. Only looks at me with her piercing, grey eyes.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Peeta.", she says softly. Her perfect oval face is rich with emotion, not like the doctors who were sinister and detached.

"May I come in?" I give a tiny nod, and she takes a few steps into my cell, still watching me. It's hard to guess the expression she wears, but it seems familiar… Something I haven't seen in ages. Something I have almost forgotten in this forsaken place. Compassion.

"Who are you?", I croak.

"My name is Aurora. I am the leader of several small but precise Capitol-defying task forces across Panem. And I came to rescue you." Aurora speaks slowly, carefully. But I still don't understand.

"The rebels… Will you take me to District 13?" She shakes her head.

"I'm not with the rebels. At least not in the way you think. I support the rebellion, but I…" It seems as if she weighs her words. "…digress from their methods."

"Ma'am, we don't have much time left. Capitol reinforcements will be here in eight minutes.", I hear Hawkie call. Aurora nods, but she doesn't look anxious or stressed. She just walks over to me with soundless steps and crouches down next to my pitiful form.

"I will help you remember.", she simply says. The syringe she pulls out from under her cloak terrifies me at first and I press up against the wall. Memories of doctors drugging me threaten to bury me alive. But Aurora holds up a hand and locks her gaze with mine.

"This is a dose of morphling. It will put you to sleep for a few hours, so I can get you out of here safely. When you wake up, you will be lying on a field bed inside my hovercraft." Her voice sounds reassuring and I relax for a moment, before she pushes the syringe into my arm and presses down on the plunger.

Numbness spreads through my limbs and mind. Hawkie and Waltz gently lift me onto a stretcher and I'm being carried out of my cell. The last thing I feel is a warm, soft hand grabbing mine and Aurora's voice somewhere above me.

"You will see her again. I promise."


	2. Questions & Answers

When I drift into consciousness again, the ceiling is different. Metal plates and rumbling noises. I remember what Aurora said to me before she sedated me and I look around. She's there, her back turned to me, talking quietly to a woman with ruffled brown hair and sharp features. Hawkie. The room is small, but bigger than my cell.

It reminds me of the rooms on the Capitol hovercrafts where they patched me and Katniss up directly after the Games. My bed is neither hard nor soft and I can see the thin tubes that lead from my arm to packs of clear liquid hanging on a stand next to me. Several monitors show what I guess to be my vital signs, beeping occasionally. I'm covered with a soft blanket as the room temperature is quite cool, underlined by the blue lights embedded in the hull.

"Hijacked?", Hawkie asks quietly. Turning my head to look at her takes up all of my willpower. Seems like the morphling is still in my system.

"Despicable. Despicable bunch of monsters." Aurora doesn't answer her question. She sounds agitated, although her voice is kept low. The hovercraft's walls shudder.

"Ma'am… What does it mean?", the sniper tries again.

"They injected him with tracker jacker venom. Just enough so he'd get hallucinations. Or rather, alterations of what he was really seeing.", she explains. So that was what the Capitol doctors gave me.

"I don't understand.", Hawkie whispers tonelessly.

"Tracker jacker venom hits the Amygdala, Hawkie. The part of our brain that is responsible for fear and aggression. It makes everything we see under its influences get tinted with dread and violence." Aurora's voice is strained.

"They wanted to brainwash him."

"Despicable, but clever, our dear president. He intended for Peeta to have his memories of Katniss hijacked – twisted into horrible lies, to the point where he would attack her on sight. Hit her where it hurts most. Break her." She sounds appalled, disgusted even. Then, with a slight hint of hope, she says, "But they didn't finish the job."

"Because we got him out in time. I'm sorry I said we should wait longer… I understand now.", Hawkie says in a sombre tone. "Can you help him, Ma'am?"

"I'm going to do whatever is in my power.", Aurora says resolutely.

"You fixed _me_, after all. That has to count for something." The sharpshooter smiles, ever so slightly. Between the confusion about their conversation and the tiredness from the morphling, I wonder about what Hawkie said. Is Aurora some kind of healer? Will she really be able to fix my haunting memories? Will she stay true to her word that I'm going to see Katniss again? And what is this task force she talked about? So many questions, but I'm still so tired. Over it all, the words they'd spoken loom in dreadful letters – _Hijacked._ Hawkie leaves the room silently and Aurora turns to my bed.

"You're awake.", she says matter-of-factly, but her eyes are kind. She moves to sit down on a chair by the side of my bed. Probably the oddest chair I've ever seen, or maybe it's just because it doesn't fit into the surroundings of the hovercraft at all. It's pillowed and the covers are made out of leather, stitched into patterns neatly. My eyes seem to widen, because Aurora smiles.

"Yes, it's a strange chair. But since I basically live in it, it has to be comfortable to some extent." She isn't wearing her armor anymore, neither the asymmetrical cloak, but only a simple white tunic and trousers.

"It must be flattered if everyone looks so startled by it like me.", I manage to say and her smile widens.

"I have witnessed your talent for words, although until now only on the screen. But I'm glad that after all you've been through, they didn't take it away." I wish I could be glad too, I think silently. My thoughts are jumbled, even though they are mostly numbed by the morphling.

"Hijacked?", I ask, remembering what she said before, and I start to shiver as soon as the word leaves my lips. Aurora looks serious again, her smile fades.

"I'm afraid that is what they did to you, yes. The Capitol has brought torture to a new level in all the years it reigned. It appals me.", she sighs. I look at her earnest face.

"Explain.", I say. And she explains.

"Memory is a complex thing. It is stored in various parts of our brain, connected and intertwined with emotions. Imagine it as a network, each memory docked to a certain feeling, usually in a reasonable fashion. Flowers in the spring – happiness; snakes in a pit – fear." Aurora takes two pieces of rope, a blue and a red one, from a medical equipment stand and ties a loose knot with them. Then she takes a third green rope and shows them all to me.

"The knotted one is your old memory. A person tied to the feeling of love. Tracker jacker venom, together with the evocation of memories about this person…" She unties the blue and red ropes. "…severs this connection to the positive emotion, and connects it to fear. We call this process conditioning, when it occurs naturally." She ties a new knot with the green rope. "Sometimes people can be taught to be afraid of something specific, but it's especially hard to change memories. When used to deliberately distort a memory, the term hijacking carries. It can be very effective, and very hard to reverse. But the thing that helps us immensely is, it needs a lot of time, and careful administration of the drug. Just enough so the real memory becomes something terrifying over time. We got you out before they did irreparable damage, but what really made the difference were you. You prevailed. You loved this girl almost all of your life. That is not something that can be morphed in a few weeks. Maybe it never can."

I try to look hopeful about what she is telling me, but on the inside I'm scared. Scared that I'll never be able to remember what was true and what the Capitol fabricated. All these weeks, and all the pain, and all the haunting, terrifying memories. After the Capitol had tried everything to take my humanity away to the point where I almost thought they would succeed, something in me finally shatters. Lets go. And I'm unable to stop the tears.

For what seems like an eternity, I cry like a little boy, trembling and sobbing until I'm spent and all my withheld emotions soak through the sheets of my pillow. Aurora holds my hand in an iron grip, but she doesn't speak for a long time. Then, over the sound of my rattling hyperventilation, I hear her voice. She sings. I recognize the song from my childhood. The image of a tall, dark haired man with grey eyes comes to my mind. Laugh lines are on his face as the small girl thrones on his shoulders, her hair in two braids. He sings and the birds fall silent, but the little girl joins in, her voice light and twinkling, like the wind chimes on Madge's front porch.

_The sky has given me its rain-drenched coat,  
My torn shoes carried me as best they could,  
Through the deepest nights I've paced,  
Let the hot sunlight spread across my face;_

_Upon a pearly, foaming sea,  
Has my small boat sailed with me,  
Now I'm back, I'm back again,  
To bring you sun and stars, my friend._

_My most precious gem, lost in the depths,  
My velvet clothes of their gleam bereft,  
My riches scattered by a thunderstorm,  
My last cup bought by a poor worm,_

_Everything I had is shed,  
I couldn't bring you more, my friend.  
I brought the sun and stars for you,  
My hands, look how they shine so true._

I don't know how Aurora knows this song, but no words on this world could remind me more of home. Of Katniss. Completely exhausted from my crying, I fall into a deep sleep.

In the cottony dullness of my dreams, I feel her reach out to me. "Stay with me.", she whispers, and I go searching for her. But she is nowhere. I walk the ashes of my home, District 12, and meet my father, sitting on the ruins of the family bakery. His hands are still white from flour.

"I'm sorry.", I say to him. He smiles.

"I'm sorry too, son." Before I can ask him for what, he claps his hands and the puff of flour that rises from them engulfs the whole world. I'm in a forest now, surrounded by birds of all kind. Blue jays, mockingjays, nightingales. They all sing. _I brought the sun and stars for you, My hands, look how they shine so true. _

When I wake up once more, I'm in a real bed and again, the ceiling is different. Sunlight seeps through a narrow window above my head and long, fragile shadows dance on my sheets. There are still tubes in my arm, but I think the packs of medicine hanging from the stand are fewer now.

I look around the room. The walls are painted in a soft yellow that reminds me of an eggshell. A few bookshelves made from dark brown wood stand against the walls, but what captures my attention is the painting above one of them. It shows a city floating in the sky, painted with exquisite brushstrokes. Filigree towers rise to the clouds, and I can even make out a radiant garden with a small waterfall. I stare at it in wonder.

"Do you like it? It's one of my favourites too." Only now I notice Aurora sitting on my right side, her strange living-chair propped up against the wall. She holds a book in her hand which she now sets down into her lap.

"It was a present_. 'Imagination is the mind's refuge when reality becomes too cruel_.'", she says in a tone indicating a quote.

"I guess the person who said that wasn't hijacked.", I say with an intention to joke, though I realize that it just sounds bitter. Aurora smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes.

"Where am I?"

"In my home. A little north of the great lakes that encircle District 8. Neither Capitol hovercrafts nor those of District 13 fly in this area, which is fortunate. And the reason I picked this place.", she explains.

"But… north of the lakes are only the Wilds." I've never been outside fence boundaries, but as a Victor, I have travelled farther than most people in the districts. Now I'm in the wilderness, in a… house?

"Yes, and it took me years and a lot of resources to build this. You could call it my headquarters. Your body needs to recover from the Capitol's abuse, so I can't show you around just yet. We are mostly underground, but this is one of the few rooms that rise above the surface a little. I thought you'd like the sunlight." I look at the dancing rays on my sheets.

"I do. Thank you.", I say quietly. A soft knock at the door interrupts our conversation and Hawkie enters, holding a tray with a bowl of mouth-watering broth. My stomach immediately growls as she sets it down on my lap. She introduces herself to me with a serious face, although her voice is polite and friendly.

"Start small, Peeta.", Aurora warns me. "The Capitol had you half-straved." The soup is so incredibly delicious that I forget all of my worries for the few minutes that I need to gulp it down. I'm still hungry afterwards, but I know from a life of hunger that I need to take it slow.

"How do you even get supplies for something like this out here in the Wilds?", I ask curiously.

"Oh, I'm a pretty good hunter. It's really easy to hit prey when you're perched high in a tree with a giant gun.", Hawkie says. Her tone is neutral, but something about the words hunter and prey agitate me and suddenly I feel outraged. Katniss is a hunter, and I'm the prey. The memory of her standing above me, the tip of an arrow pointing at my heart, it's so overwhelming that I lash out and throw the tray from my lap against the wall.

A complete slave to the fear and anger that fills me, the images in my head become so powerful it makes me cry out in pain and thrash around like a madman. Katniss the hunter, Katniss the mutt that killed my family. Wrong!, A small voice says, but I almost overhear it in the raging storm of hatred, and I clutch my head with both hands, unable to prevent myself from screaming. Through all of this insanity, Aurora's voice cuts like a knife.

"He is having an episode. Hold him down!" Strong hands pin me to the bed and I feel the sharp sting of a needle in my arm. Then darkness.

When I wake up again, the room is dimly lit by a small lamp on one of the bookshelves. It must be nighttime. I shiver as I remember my gruesome tantrum. I'm almost sure that I hurt Hawkie at some point, and the thought makes me tremble violently. Aurora was wrong. I'm insane. A menace. Too far gone to be saved. Tears roll down my cheeks, only this time I cry in utter silence, mourning my sanity and full of regret.

"Peeta." Aurora's eyes fixate on me through the semidarkness, her pale skin almost aglow from the soft light of the lamp. "Don't blame yourself for what happened.", she says. I wonder if she ever sleeps.

"Who else is there to blame?" My voice is barely a whisper.

"The Capitol. President Snow, the usurper, the torturer, the puppet master. Everyone, but you." Her voice bears such intense resolve that I don't dare to question it. Something tells me she has a history concerning the president, judging from the way she spits out his name.

"I hurt Hawkie. When I thrashed around, I…" My words trail away. Aurora's expression is gentle again, the look of mercilessness when she spoke about Snow wiped from her face as if it had never been there.

"Hawkie is a trained soldier, sharpshooter and combat specialist, Peeta. Nothing throws her easily. You didn't hurt her, only startled her for a moment. Waltz was the one who held you down, and him you gave a good struggle. Your strength is still impressive." She nods with a slight smile and I know she is trying to reassure me, but it does nothing to make me feel less miserable.

"My people are prepared for this. And with enough time, you will be prepared too, and learn to control it." With a soft thud, Aurora lets her book fall onto the shelf.

"What happened to me? What is 'it'?", I ask timidly, afraid of the answer.

"You had what is called an episode." Standing up and walking over to my bed to sit at the edge, she starts to explain. "It happens to people who are being brainwashed, when a certain trigger – a memory, a word, a person – activates what has been implanted into their thoughts. In your case, fear and aggression. You were powerless to stop it, you couldn't have. Not yet. The hijacking isn't complete, but you will still need to heal from it, to remember your real memories. That's why you're here, with me." Not for the first time I wonder who this person is who seems to know so much about people's minds.

"Who are you? How do you know about these things?" Her eyes don't leave mine as she ponders how to answer me for a moment.

"I'm a psychiatrist. A doctor who specializes in curing mental diseases." Following her gaze, I notice a framed document on the wall. Although it's too dark and far away to read it, I recognize that it must be some kind of certificate.

"So you're from the Capitol.", The realization shouldn't be surprising, but it hits me anyway. Hospitals and higher schools are a dominion of the Capitol, not the Districts. District 1 and 2 may have a few hospitals, but only the Capitol has universities where people could study medicine, or anything else for that matter. The closest thing to doctors District 12 had were the healers. Apothecaries who had knowledge about how to treat a wide range of injuries or make medicine from herbs. But they didn't have framed certificates hanging from the wall.

"Yes… and no.", Aurora says, which confuses me. "I was born in the Capitol and lived there until I was 18. I studied in Europe."

"Excuse me, in where?" I must look aghast, because she lets out a soft laugh.

"The Capitol really keeps you like sheep in a cattle.", she sighs, serious again. "In all of Panem, there are probably a handful of people who know about Europe. A small country across the great ocean, and as far as I know the only other settlement that survived the change of our planet. No one would ever travel there, because it's far away and the sea can be treacherous to hovercrafts. Communication with Europe is virtually nonexistent, since… two centuries, I guess. They leave us alone, we leave them alone… Mutual indifference. Besides, we have a hard enough time, battling on the inside."

It's hard to believe what she tells me. Instead of being satisfied with every answer she gives me, it just spawns more questions to ask.

"How did you get there, then?" An expression that I never expected creeps onto Aurora's face: mischief.

"I stole a hovercraft and flew there.", she simply says, leaving me with a dropped jaw. "You look like you just saw me turn into a horse and gallop around the room, prancing! Did I at least distract you from your worries for a few minutes?" Her smile is so gentle and honest that I can't help but return it. This small gesture fills her eyes with a light that I haven't seen for a million years, and her kindness stirs a feeling of remembrance inside of me.

People used to know me for being kind once, a lifetime ago. If I had all the riches in the world, I would trade the very last piece to be that person again.

The conversation was so overloaded with information that I feel exhausted and drift off to sleep before I can ask Aurora the question that bothered me since she rescued me. Where are Johanna and Annie, and where's Katniss?


	3. The Aviary

Over the next few weeks, I slowly begin to rise from the mental coma the Capitol had put me in. The medicine bags become less and less, until all but one disappears, and even that one is only hooked for two or three hours in the night. It's a light antidepressant, Aurora explains, and it will help to improve my mood.

I learn that Johanna and Annie have been deployed in a safe part of District 11, where they've been picked up by the rebels. Since my episodes could make me dangerous for Katniss, Aurora insists on treating me before I can join them. I agree with her, even though I miss Katniss terribly. My bruises heal and the last of the venom is flushed from my system. I get used to solid food again and my appetite returns. In the nights, I sometimes cry, mourning my family and my home, heart wrenching when I think of Katniss.

But during the days, I become acquainted with the members of Aurora's household – or the Avian Squad, as I like to call them (since they refer to the headquarters as the Aviary, it seemed appropriate). It doesn't take long for me to grow fond of them, but I sense that the feeling's mutual by the way they treat me. Everyone is nice to me, which is in such contrast to my time as a hostage that it takes a while for me to get used to it, or even believe that they are genuine.

Hawkie visits me twice every day to bring me breakfast and dinner, sometimes she stays to talk. Waltz helps me to regain some bodily strength by rebuilding the muscles in my arms and legs with exercise, and later, when I'm allowed to leave my room, he introduces me to his training machines. There's also Tesla, a thin, spectacled man in his late forties, who spends most of his waking hours in the generator and communications room, grooming his dozens of monitors and circuits. I'm told that he is a mastermind of electronics, but for being so focused when awake, he can fall asleep in the strangest places. Once I almost trample him when I'm on my way to the kitchen, huddled up on the floor in front of the elevator. Which is curious, since my room is closest to the surface, and G & C is about the lowest level of the Aviary.

The reason I can walk around at all is Archie, the crazy inventor. He reminds me of Haymitch a little, because he too can throw a tantrum and get drunk until he passes out on his workbenches. Mostly when one of his ideas doesn't turn out how he imagined it. But it's not a regularity, and without Archie, a lot of things in the Aviary wouldn't work the way they should. There isn't a thing he can't build or assemble, no matter what material. Wood, metal, plastic, glass, fabric. Furniture, pottery, machine parts, and even… a new leg for me. The old one I left behind in the Capitol, but I like the new one more anyway. It has a soft material that takes on my body temperature embedded at the base where the stump of my leg lies, and the straps are made from leather that feels natural even after hours of wearing it. I used to hate the Capitol leg, because it felt all cold and wrong, and it never helped with the phantom pain.

"You like it? You like it! You'll run marathons like a wildcat when you got used to it – nothing I make gets broken, ever!", Archie cheered after I walked my first steps in his new leg. He gets hysterical when one of his inventions is finished.

"The scope of my rifle says otherwise, Archie.", Hawkie said in a grumpy voice.

"Ha, woman! You'd sink an unsinkable ship, if you'd get your hands on one!", the inventor retorted, and me and Waltz, who was holding me steady as I walked around the room, both laughed. There are two more members of the Avian Squad, Coach and Misa, who are brother and sister. Misa, a scrawny dark-skinned girl with sad eyes, is our medic, but I rarely see her. Probably because strictly speaking, Aurora is my doctor. She explains that Misa is a field medic and orthopaedic surgeon, mainly responsible for military injuries, whereas Aurora is a doctor for the human mind. Everything in between, the two of them share treating.

Coach, I see a lot. He's our cook and the most hilarious story-teller of all time. Thirty-five, tall and broad, he has travelled around Panem like nobody else I know. In his teenager years, he used to be a cook for the idle rich people of the Capitol, where he overheard the most sensational tales. After seeing the wrong in the world, he became a travelling con artist to help poor people all around the Districts, until he was picked up by Aurora. In a coup of brilliance, he had planted his sister Misa as a medic among the Peacekeepers in District 11, so she was safe.

All the members of the Avian Squad are incredible people, and being with them starts to feel like home to me. If it weren't for the episodes that simply wash over me sometimes, burying me in fear and rage. And each time I come to, I'm full of regret, afraid that I hurt somebody this time. And of course, Katniss. Not a day goes by without me missing her.

Hawkie brings me breakfast and dinner, but lunch is always reserved for Aurora. Every day, I spend hours talking to her, trying to sort out the conflicting memories in my head. She uses a sort of logic game, making me contradict myself in order to have a revelation.

"So you say that Katniss was responsible for the bombing of District 12, that killed thousands of people, including your family.", she says one day during our session. I nod.

"Last week, we established the most striking feature about the Katniss in your positive memories." She brings up the projector and shows me the recap of the Reaping from the 74th Hunger Games. Katniss and her sister, Prim, are on the screen.

"The love for her family.", Aurora concludes. "A love that made her choose a Game of Death in order to protect what is precious to her." I look at the picture, confused.

"Yes, but…" She cuts me off.

"Focus, Peeta. How does this tie together? Protecting your family at the expense of your life, but ordering a bombing that destroys hundreds of families, including the one you're trying to protect. Does that make sense to you?" Her eyes are hard and challenging. She wants me to defend my point with an explanation or give in to the fact that I'm not making sense.

"No…", I say sheepishly. Aurora changes the picture to another caption of Katniss standing in the arena, arrow poised, lightning striking down from the heavens.

"This is what really happened in the Quarter Quell. She shot an arrow at the force field in the exact moment when the lightning struck. After she'd been picked up by the rebels, the Capitol just assumed that she was the instigator, and sent the bombers to make an example of District 12 the way they did with District 13." On the caption, Katniss looks unsure, afraid even. Her hair is dishevelled, her face sweaty and dirty, her eyes fearful.

"Why did she do that? Shoot the arrow to destroy the force field." Aurora tilts her head and sighs, flicking her pen against the notebook she holds. This gesture is quite familiar to me by now. It means that I should know the answer to my own question. With a deep breath, I try to collect what I remember about Katniss, the good one, while separating and shutting out my thoughts about the evil one.

"Think about our list, Peeta.", Aurora instructs me. A while ago, we made a list of characterizations for both the evil Katniss and the good Katniss from my memories. I am to see the impossibility of the evil Katniss' existence by reminding myself of the list that characterizes the good Katniss. But even this little game, that seems almost childish and simple to me, is sometimes hard to come by. I go through the list. Not quick to trust. Loyal. Favourite color: green. Self-conscious. Blushes when I say something nice. Thinks too lowly about herself. Likes my cheese buns. Not good with words. But with actions. Impulsive.

"She acted on impulse.", I blurt out, and I can see that it's the correct answer because Aurora smiles at me and scribbles something into her notebook. This is how most of our sessions go down. She usually presents me with a conflicting memory and then leads me to the right conclusion. But she also teaches me techniques how to get a hold of my episodes, or to sort out the wrong assumptions from the right ones. I call them mind games, and sometimes I think of Aurora as a magician who plays tricks on the Capitol while they clap like idiots. Together, we find out that most of my fabricated memories have some shiny quality to it, but the real ones don't.

With time, I learn the most important pillars for fighting my hijacked thoughts: Logic. If I tie two things together, they have to make sense. Anchor. When I feel myself slipping away, I have to get a grip on something solid from this world. Focus. If I'm threatened to be overwhelmed, I need to single out the thought, not let it get jumbled up. Reciprocity. When I'm not sure, I need to formulate a question and consider the answer. Origin. If I get lost in conflicting memories, I return to the one I am certain is real. Actuality. There are things I consider given facts, and they do not change. My name is Peeta Mellark. I survived the Hunger Games. I love Katniss Everdeen. Conclusion. I never want to hurt the ones I care about. These pillars become my mantra when the episodes try to tear me apart.

Some nights, I just can't get any sleep because the nightmares are so vivid my sheets get soaked in sweat. Most of the time, Aurora sits in her chair, ready to comfort me until I drift off again. But she has her duties too, and I know that she sacrifices precious time for me when she should be planning the task forces' moves, or even sleeping. On nights when these matters are too pressing for her to stay in my room, I wake up paralyzed with terror, alone.

That's when I go exploring. The Aviary is arranged around a central elevator, spanning six floors, each of which has four larger rooms. They are connected with narrow intersections that usually serve as storage, although they also hold a small toilet and washing room on every floor. My room is located at the right side of the elevator on Floor 0, the one closest to the surface. Hawkie lives right next to me, since she is the one who leaves the compound on a daily basis to hunt and gather what we eat. We get supplies occasionally from other task forces around Panem – even canned food from the Capitol. But most of the time, Hawkie provides. The two other rooms are Aurora's personal quarters and of the few that I haven't dared to enter yet. She never seems to be in them anyway and the doors are always closed.

The second floor holds the kitchen, the cantina where we can have our meals together if we want to, Coach and Misa's room and the food storage. Third floor has a medical room that even allows operating to some extent, a large common room for free-time, Archie's studio, and the great bathroom, separated for men and women of course. Waltz' domain is the fourth floor where the armory and weaponry lie side by side and his personal quarters connect to the training room. Generator and communications, Tesla's realm, is on the fifth floor and spans two rooms. There's also the combustion chamber, humming with the heating power that keeps us warm, and a dormitory for our two hovercraft pilots, but they rarely use it because they practically live in the garage.

In the basement, farthest down, is the Main Command Centre, well protected by a thick layer of bullet and bomb-proof metal and completely capable of operating on its own if separated from the rest of the Aviary. The whole sixth floor is one giant, circular room with monitors, maps and electronic tracking devices lining the walls. Its most striking feature is a metal ring that projects a giant, detailed map of Panem into its centre and simultaneously serves as a gathering table for the squad during tactical debriefs. A lot of other equipment whose purpose eludes me is carefully arranged here, including a holographic library or a machine that only seems to consist of a giant metal box with hundreds of blinking lights on the front.

Lights are always alive in the Command Centre. The screens flash away tirelessly, parts of the map show troop movement, at least three of the monitors televise Capitol news or channels and another two rebel propos around the clock. Notebooks, reports, scribbled observations and other information-holding media is scattered everywhere. I wonder how much intelligence flows through our Command Centre every day, how Aurora even manages to process and filter it into a coherent form. If she is not in my room, I usually can find her here, bent over her notes and maps, her eyelids fluttering from the effort to stay awake. Sometimes she has fallen asleep watching the Capitol news broadcast. I wrap a blanket around her when I see her like this.

In my weeks at the Aviary, I learn things about my remarkable saviour, bit by bit. For example, Coach tells me the story why Aurora wears white clothes at all times: There had always been a small, clandestine society of people in the Capitol and the Districts who defied President Snow's ways. But since such a thing was highly dangerous if uncovered, they only communicated in codes. Aurora's existence was a rumor among these people, and their code for her was White Queen, referring to the chess piece. To reveal herself to followers she could trust, she dressed in white only, and they recognized her.

She still uses this small trick, although by now it has mostly become a habit. From Aurora herself, I learn about her journey to Europe. Back then it was only Tesla, Waltz and her, and they barely made it across the sea, the hovercraft badly battered by storms. When European scouts discovered them after they got stranded on a rocky shore, they were half-starved and completely dehydrated. But the inhabitants were forthcoming, ready to share food, technology and knowledge with the newcomers. Aurora describes Europe as a small, disciplined, though very secluded country. They weren't interested in Panem and rather treated her like someone they picked up in the wilderness. She shows me pictures of the main city, freely accessible as it sits in a valley between the highlands with their lush grass meadows to the Northeast and the fertile, warm riverlands to the Southwest.

Unlike the Capitol, the Europe metropolis lacks rioting colors and tall steel towers, but looks more like an ancient city, its low-rise stone buildings ornamented with subtlety rather than sheer burlesque. But not to be underestimated, Aurora tells me, because the city has great underground laboratories and science centres that could compete with the Capitol's technology. I see winding, small walkways between the houses, ending into tiny gardens or parks.

During the Hunger Games, we were never allowed to walk around freely in the Capitol, but when I see the pictures Aurora shows me, I wonder what it would be like if the rebellion succeeded. Will I be able to stroll on the streets of the great Capitol, or will it never lose its menacing aura, always bringing up the memories from the Games, and the torture? Even though Aurora is open about her visit to Europe, she never talks about her life in the Capitol. Nobody seems to know what she was doing before she stole a hovercraft and set out into the great wide open – except Waltz and Tesla. But whenever I ask them, their faces turn into masks of stone and force my question into non-existence.

What I do know is that she always intended to return, although that is a mystery on its own, because Europe basically sounds like a paradise that I wouldn't leave again. She became a doctor there, studying at one of the two universities the country has, then gathered all the resources she could possibly muster, and came back. Building the Aviary has been an endeavour of years, and more and more people joined her. She travelled through the Districts and even to the Capitol as the White Queen, establishing task forces for her cause. But what exactly is her cause, now that there's an open rebellion? Why didn't she join the rebels?

One night, when I find her in the MCC, she stares at the screen that shows rebel propos, looking very displeased. I follow her frown and see Katniss, surrounded by flames that seem to be shaped into wings, dressed in a uniform that was clearly designed by Cinna. Under her form, the words "Catching Fire – The rebellion marches" are emblazoned with burning letters. Aurora snorts, a cynical sound.

"What is it?", I ask and sit down next to her. Suddenly her anger explodes out of her like a breaking dam and she shoots up from her chair.

"Wrong is all it is! Wrong! Parade her around like that, like a prize-horse on the market. They are using this poor girl to boost their war. And just because nobody would fall in line if they saw Coin's dull face." Her voice rises as she walks circles around me, reminding me of a caged animal ready to pounce.

"I don't like it either, I admit. Who's Coin?" Aurora flicks the remote control and a woman around fifty appears on the screen, her grey hair so straight it looks unnatural. Her expression is hard, lacking any sign of emotion to the point of rigor.

"President Alma Coin is the true leader of the rebels, and the president of District 13. She made Katniss the Mockingjay, a symbol to rally the Districts to her cause. I can't stand her.", says Aurora.

"She doesn't seem like someone people would sympathize with, but I guess you don't dislike her because of her looks.", I muse.

"Have you ever wondered why District 13 lives in complete silence for more than 75 years, but then generously steps up as soon as defiance starts seething in the Districts, to take the rebellion under their protective wing?" I understand what she's suggesting. This sounds like calculated power play, and Katniss is stuck in the middle. It begins to dawn on me why Aurora refused to hand me over to the rebels, irrespective of my hijacking. She doesn't trust District 13, or more precisely, Coin.

"_'For thirty years, I have plotted to bring down the Party. I'm sick in mind and body.'_", she says quietly. At the sight of my questioning look, she elaborates. "It's a quote from a novel, a very ancient one about people who live under constant surveillance and are forbidden any individuality by the laws of a government called 'The Party'."

"Sounds familiar." My tone is sarcastic.

"It's fitting. Maybe the author has seen it all coming. Ever since I came back, I have tried to help ease the people's misery, while Coin sat and watched them waste away, waiting in the shadows for the right moment to step forward. In my eyes, she's no better than Snow." We both watch President Snow on one screen and Alma Coin on the other in silence for a while.

"I'm afraid, Peeta.", says Aurora suddenly. She sounds so weak that I shiver at the thought of her being afraid of anything. It just can't happen. She is what's holding us all together.

"I'm afraid that we have sacrificed the soul of our species long ago, when we decided that children murdering children is justifiable to prove a point. I'm afraid that we are flailing, pathetic creatures in a battle between two giants who would both trample us in order to win. Snow and Coin see people as tools for reaching their goal. Someone has to be their voice in all this. Vox Populi, the voice of the people. Frightened, angry, unheard, oppressed." Her confession both rattles and moves me.

"You could be."; I say in earnest. Aurora turns her piercing grey eyes to me and smiles, a sad, regretful smile. I can feel that she wants to tell me something, something very important, but no words leave her lips. And in the silence, her gaze speaks clearer than words ever could: _I can't. _


	4. Hidden

Life in the Aviary helps my mind to recover. Although I still have problems with certain key memories, as Aurora calls them, I'm starting to get better control over my episodes. We discuss my key memories, for example the tracker jacker incident and Katniss' ambiguous behaviour towards me during the Victory Tour. Her relationship with Gale. Her pushing me into the force field. But I know that some of these things I can only rule out by actually talking to the real Katniss herself. So I ask Aurora for advice, and she suggests that I simply ask Katniss the questions that bother me when the time comes, of course after explaining my mental situation first.

One day, I start to bake again. Just like that. And because Coach is great with meals, but a terrible baker. It happens when I stroll into the kitchen and see him kneading dough with such desperation that I can't help but take over. I try to teach him different recipes for bread and even pastry after a while, but he always lets me do it, and I'm thankful. Baking feels like something from home, a part of my old self that is slowly returning to me. Even though everyone assured me that I don't need to 'have a job' in the Aviary since I'm still a patient, I felt useless until I saw the faces of my companions after tasting my bread. And ever since, I go down into the kitchen every day to work side by side with Coach.

At least twice a week, all of the Avian Squad gathers in the big, comfortable common room on the third floor. Waltz brings out a guitar, Misa her small handheld harp she saved when fleeing the District, I bake special crispy rolls, and we spend the evening singing and talking and eating. Coach dances, Archie drinks, Tesla hums to the music. Hawkie picks the songs, because she has a perfect memory of the titles, and Aurora sings them until we all join in. We share stories of our lives. These are the nights I enjoy the most, but at some point during each of them, I feel a sting of homesickness that is closely related to Katniss. I wish she was here with me. She would feel at home with these people like I do. Instead, I imagine her in District 13 among people she can't trust, worrying if I'm even alive.

After long weeks of confinement, Aurora deems me sane enough to leave the Aviary at will, to see the surface. The door leading to the outside world is thick metal punched into a diagonal wall in one of the intersections on my floor. A light above it indicates if it's safe to leave. If we get news of scheduled aerial strikes or heavy hovercraft traffic, the light turns red and you wouldn't be able to open the door if you wanted to. Otherwise, it's mostly green.

When I first pry the door open and take the steps up the narrow corridor, the sun is so blinding I can't see a thing. My eyes adjust to the light after a while, and I'm standing in the middle of a beautiful meadow. A great tree, a weeping willow, rises a dozen feet from where I emerged, her graceful branches heaving in the soft breeze like strands of hair. Tall grass and wildflowers brush against my leg and a little farther away I can make out the edges of a forest, probably brimming with wildlife. As I take a deep breath of fresh air, Aurora walks past me. When she pushes the willow-braches aside, she reveals a small, wooden table with a matching chair. The sight is so peaceful that I don't dare to move for a long moment, afraid it will vanish and I'll be back under the cold, artificial lights of the Capitol.

"Katniss would love this.", I hear myself say and Aurora just smiles. She sits down on the single chair and I walk around the curtains of the willow, savouring the dancing lights of the sun peeking through the branches. After a time of blissful silence where none of us speaks, I turn to her.

"I need her to know that I'm okay. And why I haven't returned." She seems to have expected this request for a while, because she doesn't look surprised.

"The time to reveal myself to Panem hasn't come yet.", says Aurora and my heart sinks. "But I will find a way to grant your wish.", she then adds.

Gratitude washes over me like a mighty wave and I close the distance between us, pulling her into a tight hug. For a moment she tenses and I feel that this kind of contact is almost foreign to her. Then her body relaxes and I wonder how long it has been since someone held her close. The other members of the Squad revere and honor Aurora, but they keep a respectful distance. She sometimes touches Hawkie's shoulder or approaches others in a gentle way, like when she held my hand while I cried. But I have never seen her hug anyone. Reluctantly, I let go of her and sit down in the grass next to her chair. When I look up, tears twinkle in her eyes, rendering me speechless. She blinks them away quickly.

"I'm sorry. It's just… I need to confess something to you, because I won't be able to hide it from you much longer. The time draws closer when I will need your help. And I can't lose your trust if you find out through someone else." Her voice sounds troubled and almost tortured, as if speaking the words takes up all of her strength. I'm confused. What could she possibly want to confess to me? She put incredible effort into my recovery, shared her home with me, answered every question I asked her, stayed by my side even though she had much more important duties. Apart from Katniss, she is the only person alive whom I trust completely. Why does she say this, now?

"Will you listen to me?", she asks and I nod instantly. Aurora takes a deep breath to gather courage, and then she speaks.

"I didn't ever lie to you about who I am, but I have not been entirely open about it either. If people knew, I'd be in grave danger and nobody would ever trust me. You probably wondered what I have been up to before I left the Capitol. All the members of my Squad are bound by oath never to reveal my full name, this is the only thing I have ever insisted on. But I need to be honest with you, because you and I are so much alike that it frightens me sometimes." She pauses for a moment, and it seems that even the wind stopped to listen to her.

"My full name is Aurora Snow." It takes me a minute for the realization to sink in. Snow. _Snow._ The woman who saved me from President Snow, who brought me back into the world of the living, who helped me regain my sanity, is the daughter of the man that tortured and twisted me, Katniss, and all of Panem?

"What?", I ask weakly. I know that President Snow had a daughter. This was before I was even born, twenty years ago, but the story had been retold by the Capitol. She was a gentle, fragile creature, who passed away shortly after her eighteenth birthday from a terrible, unknown disease. Only she didn't.

"My father" – and again, there is an unmistakable note of disgust in her voice – "spread the story that I died from a disease at the age of eighteen. I was fragile as a child, always sick, but that passed around the time I turned ten. Of course, the story of my death was a fabrication to cover up what really happened. Ever since I was old enough to think for myself, I had a growing feeling that my father is a hateful person who doesn't care how many people get hurt by his actions. A monster. And he had made the Capitol an army of monsters like himself.

I hated the Hunger Games, but he made me watch them from age of five, so I would learn to support the bloodshed, the idea of rightful punishment. Instead, I was disgusted. But he wouldn't let the issue go. I was to become his legacy, and he worked ever so hard to turn me into himself. So I grew up an excellent liar. In front of him I was obedient and played my role as the good daughter, but behind his back I sneaked away and sabotaged him wherever I could. Packing up cans of food and sending them to the Districts. Tearing apart the banners for the Hunger Games. Giving little presents to the Victors. Bribing sponsors. Those were small acts of rebellion, but I relished them either way.

I was a child who had no one to love, with a future it dreaded. My mother died two years after my birth, leaving me to my father's mercy. There was nobody to protect me." Aurora sighs, a deep, heavy sound that carries a fraction of her pain. I have to struggle to imagine what that must feel like. Being in a golden cage, groomed to become the new leader of a government built on cruelty, suppression, decadence. And hating every minute of it. It must have been hell on earth.

"And then, when I turned sixteen, the second Quarter Quell came. The hate for my father burned bright that year, as I was slowly becoming an adult realized the full extent of his crimes. In the middle of all this… there he was. Fierce and unyielding, he didn't let the Capitol break him into a state of fear. It was as if his face showed what I had felt all these years – being surrounded by peacocks and princesses who don't know a thing about the real world. Unimpressed. Unmoved." Before she identifies who she is talking about, I know, because I have seen the recaps with Katniss. Only one person showed that kind of attitude. Aurora is talking about Haymitch.

"There, among the tributes of the second Quarter Quell, lay what would become the greatest joy of my life, and at the same time my gravest mistake. For there cannot be happiness between a tribute and the daughter of the president. Only suffering." Her smile is so incredibly sad that I think no words in any language of the world would comfort her. Because she is right.

"Back then, I greeted the tributes of the Hunger Games personally, while my father held a speech for them. Each would be given a small gift from the Capitol. When I gave him his, I looked into his eyes and saw the resentment for what I was. How disgusting we must have seemed to him! And then I leaned close, draping the flowers around his neck, and I whispered… 'You must feel like throwing up in my face.' His expression derailed, only for a second. I smiled politely, and added: 'Stay alive.'. He did. He won." Aurora's gaze locks with mine, and I try to grasp the magnitude of her words.

"At the Victor ceremony, I laid the crown upon his curly, dark hair gently. We looked at each other, grey to grey, and I saw the horror in his eyes, where he saw the horror in mine. It was custom for me to sing a song at the end of the crowning. My voice was known across the Capitol, but on that night, I sang for him alone. And I could see in his face that he knew." She smiles again, but this time in a way that is full of innocence and wonder. Even though I quickly calculate that she must be forty-one by now, her face reminds me of a young girl, glowing from the depth of her heart. And I realize, after all these years, she still loves him.

"You fell in love with Haymitch.", I state with amazement.

"Yes, one could say that. On the eve of the Victor crowning, I snuck away from the mansion to meet him. My father never knew. By then, I had mastered every way to escape his surveillance. I'll never forget what Hay said to me when he saw me. 'I stayed alive, like you said. What happens now, songbird?'

That's what he called me, songbird. A pretty bird in a golden cage, singing for the Capitol's entertainment. We talked. I told him that my father was mad for his trick with the force-field. He told me how he didn't care, because since the moment I gave him the flowers, he had died a little inside, day by day. In the darkness of the night, I sang to him. Songs I was never allowed to sing. And when he kissed me, my heart sang a whole other song, one that cannot be expressed with words."

It's hard for me to imagine a young, sober Haymitch who didn't hate the world for what it had done to him, but loved a young girl he wasn't supposed to love. As I listen to Aurora's story, I wonder if I will have to rethink everything he has ever said to me. Has he made remarks about love that I didn't understand until now? Has he tried to reach out for me, to share his pain? Or did he actually bury that part of himself long ago, drowned it in alcohol?

"I tried to protect him from my father's retribution, and for a while, I succeeded. Oh how I twisted reality in front of him to get what I wanted! But I couldn't have cared less. Whenever it was possible – on his Victory Tour, when he started mentoring tributes – Hay and I met in secret. I never had any doubts about my feelings for him, but he started to object when we were almost caught once. How our relationship would get me hurt. How it was impossible for us to be together. He pushed me away when I wanted to touch him, his hands trembling with the effort to keep me away.

But I was stubborn, unwilling to let go of the first person I have ever loved. He called me names, called me a Capitol whore. His strategy might have worked on someone who cared about their own dignity, someone who didn't know him as well as I did. Even when he lashed out at me, I didn't budge, just held him closer, closer, until it hurt. I cradled our bodies and sang, my voice broken by my own tears. 'Songbird.', he said. 'One of these days, I'll be the reason you'll never fly again.' There was no self-pity in his voice, just cold certainty." Aurora's gaze is unfocused, distant, as if she's not with me anymore, but back in the Capitol, with Haymitch. How cynical it must have felt for him when they called Katniss and me the "Star-crossed Lovers"! And how deeply she loved him, against all odds, against even his own will.

"It took my father two years to find out about us, but eventually, he did find out. He wanted to have Haymitch and his whole family killed. And that was when I made the first and last deal with my father. I promised that I would disappear from the surface of the earth forever, if he let Haymitch live."

"I don't understand. Couldn't you just have pretended it never happened? Why did you have to disappear?", I ask, confused. She turns to me with unblinking eyes.

"Because I was carrying his child, Peeta. The reason my father found out was my daughter growing inside of me, which I couldn't conceal forever." This makes the words get stuck in my throat.

"What happened?", I manage to say.

"I was young and careless, but I didn't regret it.", she sighs. "Not until I lost her. Or at least I thought I lost her. My father yelled at me, blood from the wounds in his mouth splattering across my face. He said he couldn't bear the shame of looking at me. 'I trusted you!', he screamed. He took away my daughter, but I wouldn't let him take away Haymitch. So we made the deal – I would disappear, presumed dead. Haymitch would live on without me. All was well. Only it wasn't."

And I know what she means. Haymitch didn't live on. I remember his words: _Snow killed my family and my sweetheart._ After he learned about the death of his loved ones, he fell into a dark, empty place and never came back out. Aurora has succeeded in keeping his body alive, but he was consumed by grief over her supposed death. In addition to that, for twenty-three years, he mentored tributes just to watch them die in the arena. Snow had played it perfectly once more. He punished them, but left them alive so they would be overwhelmed by regret and hurt.

I get the feeling that he underestimated both of them, though. Haymitch became a drunken, misanthropic bastard, but he showed what he is capable of when he kept both Katniss and me alive in the arena. To me, he was even likable, and now I'm starting to think it probably was because I reminded him of Aurora, who is kind and honest like me. He blames himself for what happened, and even the excessive amounts of alcohol he drowns himself with can't tune that feeling of guilt out. That's why he chooses solitary confinement.

I'm still mad at Haymitch for his deception in the Quarter Quell, for not letting us in on the rebellion's plans. A small part of me thinks he was trying to protect us in that twisted way he may be able to feel love yet. Maybe he isn't lost. Maybe if he knew that the love of his life still lives… Aurora. The songbird, the blue jay, the white queen. Her, Snow underestimated even more severely. She rose from the ashes and came back stronger, and she is still defying him, sabotaging him. But I wonder… Why did she never return to Haymitch, especially now that he's with the rebellion, out of Snow's reach? As so often, she seems to sense my question before I formulate it.

"I destroyed his life. All I have ever brought him is suffering. What he said on that night when he struck me to protect me and I wouldn't let go, it happened in the opposite way. I saw him during every one of the Games, I saw how he slowly lost himself. I'm the reason he will never fly again. I can't go back. And I can't be the Vox Populi, because my father is the usurper, the torturer, the madman who strangulates this country, squeezing the life out of it with his bare hands. Nobody would ever trust me, his daughter. All I can do is defy him without coming out in the open." She sighs.

"I trust you.", I say without doubt in my voice. After all that she has told me, I only feel compassion for her. I remember the quote from when we watched the rebel propo: _For thirty years, I have plotted to bring down the Party. I'm sick in mind and body. _For her and Haymitch, it might be utterly true. When she takes my hand in her small one and squeezes gently, I look up at her.

"Thank you.", she says, eyes brimming with tears again. This time, she doesn't blink them away. What measure of trust and strength it had taken her to tell me all of this, I can only guess.

"You said that you wanted to tell me everything, because the time comes when you need my help. But what can I do to help you?" I want to help her, but I basically can't do anything. All I really know how to do is baking. Aurora rises from the chair and walks over to the curtain of branches. By now, the sun has started to set, and a soft orange light falls through the leaves into our sanctuary.

"The rebels are advancing on the Capitol. Slowly, but they are tipping the scale. When they march into the Capitol, I need you to come with me and help them in the fight.", says Aurora.

"But I don't know how to fight. I would only be in your way.", I remind her carefully, but she shakes her head.

"You will receive training here in the Aviary. I don't want you to put yourself in unnecessary danger, and my Squad will protect you with their lives. But I need you with me for two reasons. The first and foremost is, to reunite you with Katniss. She will be there." I don't know how she could possibly be sure about this, but from all the intel she gathers in the Aviary, it must be true.

With her back turned to me, Aurora continues.

"And the second is, to protect my daughter." This takes a moment to sink in.

"But… your daughter…", I stammer. She turns around halfway and looks at me. Her eyes seem to be made of steel.

"Yes, my daughter died before she was born. At least that's what I thought for twelve years. When I came back to Panem, I heard rumors about President Snow having a granddaughter. It was said that he graciously adopted the infant after her parents died from disease. Another of his fabrications. I searched for information, combing through my contacts, and then I got my hands on a medical report. Highly classified. It took the doctors almost ten years to find a way for my daughter to live. Snow kept her in a stasis field until science was capable of engineering her development. He didn't want a clone." The expression on her face is almost sardonic.

"He was lonely. Probably even missed me. So he brought her back from the dead, the girl who was not supposed to live."

"Your daughter is alive.", I conclude, aghast.

"My daughter is alive.", Aurora confirms. "And she lives in President Snow's mansion. She is probably the only person in all of Panem who has no reason to fear him.", she muses.

"But you see, the rebels will conquer the Capitol. And when that happens, my daughter will be in danger. Because I know Coin. She will keep the Hunger Games going, only this time, the Capitol children have to pay tribute." I only stare for a moment, horrified.

"What?! That's an atrocity! People will never agree to that!", I exclaim.

"What choice do they have, really? It will seem like rightful retribution for what the Capitol did to them. Only it doesn't consider people like me, who are going to be judged by their family affiliations, no matter what. And so my daughter will be a Snow, given to punishment for crimes she doesn't even know the meaning of. This is why I need you.", her face is distorted by fear now, fear for her innocent child.

"You saved a lot of lives when you warned 13 about the bombing. To some extent, your voice carries weight. I need you to be _my_ voice, when the time comes for my daughter's judgement. And it will come. She's just a child, Peeta. She doesn't know what's happening, she's probably afraid and…" Her voice falters, the incredible resolve she kept up all this time shatters like a piece of thin glass. When I wrap my arms around her for the second time today, her form almost disappears between them. I can't bring Haymitch to her or take his place, but I would try anything to lift a bit of the aggravating weight from her shoulders. She cries silently, and I repeat the same words to her over and over again, until she calms down.

"I will. I will. I will." I'll be the voice of the songbird. The sister I never had. The mother I always wished I had.


	5. Three Days, Five Minutes

And so, my combat training starts, while Aurora devises a plan to inform Katniss about my condition. I'm reluctant at first, but Waltz is a good teacher and I learn how to swing and fight with a set of two long knives he calls machete. When I express my repulsion for killing people with melee weapons, he explains that it's unlikely we'll only have to fight people, and even if, it won't be like the Games. Our opponents will be Peacekeepers set to kill or mutations specifically designed for gruesome combat, not children.

I try to let some of his battle steeliness rub off on me, thinking that he's probably been through a lot of fights that made him the tough warrior he is now. But I remain reluctant. Hawkie teaches me how to shoot a middle-range, automatic assault rifle, and she understands my fears, but tries to calm them rather than toughening me up.

"I'll be up on a rooftop, picking them off so you don't have to.", she says with a slight smile.

"How do you do that? The conscience thing, I mean.", I ask her in one of our sessions.

"This isn't the Games, Peeta. No useless waste of life for entertainment. This is a war for freedom, against an oppressor who tortured us. And if that doesn't help… They'll be shooting to kill. The time for mercy is over now. But after this time, we'll have peace. That's what I hope."

One day when I'm in the training room with Waltz, trying to learn how to balance while swinging my knives, Aurora walks in. She looks incredibly tired with dark shadows under her grey eyes. Lately, she was spending so much time in the MCC that she hasn't been eating or sleeping properly. It worries me.

"You look exhausted. Please, get some sleep.", I mumble to her, which earns me a tired smile.

"Later. I have good news. One of my people in District 13 got his hands on a communicuff. We can get a message to her now!" The enthusiasm in her voice is just the slightest bit strained, and I know she is keeping it together for me, even though she looks like she could just slump to the ground and sleep, like Tesla. Who waits in the MCC when I enter it with Aurora a few minutes later. She sways slightly, humming. I think she's on the verge of being delusional from exhaustion. Then a shudder goes through her and she shakes herself awake.

"How are we going to play this, Tesla?", she demands from our electronics specialist.

"I assume you want the full package. Live broadcast with a ways of messaging?", says Tesla. When Aurora nods, he sighs as if to say _'You don't make my life easy, girl'_.

"You're the best there is. You can do it. After all, you trained Beetee. It should be possible to outsmart him." This is how she gets him to do the impossible – she flatters him shamelessly, smiles like the radiant sun, and he's a goner. Unwillingly, I have to grin. Tesla is probably the most loyal member of the Squad. He has known Aurora since she was about ten years old and he would follow her through the depths of hell.

"Alright, girl. Give me two hours." And so we wait, while Tesla works his magic. Aurora sits down in one of the armchairs in front of the monitors, looking as if she'd fall asleep any minute.

"What are we going to do?", I ask nobody in particular, but Aurora answers me. Tesla doesn't even seem to know I'm there anymore, fiddling with cables and typing furiously.

"He will link us into District 13's communications network and set up a broadcast channel on a specific frequency. Then we…" Her eyes are already closed. "…we send a message to Flyn, our inside man. He'll arrange for Katniss to see our video message live."

"How will that w…" But Aurora is gone. She fell asleep the moment she finished her sentence.

"Let her sleep, son. She's been awake for almost three days. I can explain it, if you'd like.", says Tesla without turning his gaze from his equipment.

So he explains that Flyn is a con man, just like Coach was, they even worked together for a while. He was sent to observe the people in District 13, take up a life as a normal citizen there, and inform the Aviary about everything they did. He managed to get a tracker into 13's server rooms – which is the reason why we have such extensive information about the rebels, including propo broadcasts, troop movements, hovercraft launches… Everything.

He will attempt to infiltrate one of the communication rooms, where broadcasts are shown, 'get rid' of the people on duty by causing a distraction, and lure Katniss there, so I can show her that I'm alive and fine, even talk to her. Tesla will hook up one of the monitors to Flyn's communicuff, and even though I won't be able to see Katniss, she can write messages to me and I can read them on the monitor.

Tesla finishes his construction early, a camera on a stand facing me, with a monitor right next to it, showing the messages in big, white letters on black background. There are a lot of wires connected to various devices, but their purpose eludes me. They must be important for the broadcast, because Tesla shoos me away from them when I get too close.

We both don't have the heart to wake Aurora, so we wait until she rises on her own a few hours later. I'm giddy with excitement so I don't even listen as she talks the specifics through with Tesla. But I watch her closely again as she sits down on a simple chair in front of the message monitor and takes the keyboard into her lap. Tesla sits next to her, facing his many-eyed, many-buttoned machine, already typing on what looks like a small, mobile computer with a screen of its own.

"Oh Flyn, you old dog. You left this frequency open for me as an invitation.", Tesla murmurs between clicks. "It's done!", he says after a while. On the message screen, the words _'connection established'_ appear. I lean closer.

A: the man in black fled through the desert  
_Typing  
_F: and the gunslinger followed.

This must be the code of identification.

A: good to know you're alright, flyn.  
_Typing  
_F: wouldn't dare to disappoint you, ma'am.  
A: how are things in 13? are they getting ready for the big storm?  
_Typing. Erasing. Typing.  
_F: a lot of war prep in the last weeks. something big is coming. they captured the tunnels in the rockies. getting ready for the last push, i guess. two weeks until the assault, tops.  
A: yes, the feeds tell us that much. and we'll be right on time to join them. will you be in the assault?  
_Typing. Pausing. Typing.  
_F: i was even assigned a squad. … front line.  
A: damn it flyn. i told you not to stick out too much.  
_Typing.  
_F: had to. you wanted a communicuff, i got it. don't worry about me, ma'am.

Aurora sighs, but she types again.

A: i have a request, flyn. do you have regular contact with katniss everdeen?  
_Typing._ For a long time.  
F: the mockingjay. yes you told me to watch her. i see her every day at lunch and sometimes at training. she likes to wander off. i was there at the debrief after annie cresta and johanna were brought to 13. she asked about peeta a lot. there were all kinds of rumors. she doesn't look happy. people are assuming he got rescued or lost, beetee got his hands on the comms from before you fried the surveillance. they know the facility was attacked, but not much else. she's suffering, ma'am.  
A: we are going to change that. i need you to clear one of the comm rooms, lure the people out, and her in. set up a channel to the frequency i send you. make sure you're online with us on the communicuff and hand it to her. then guard the door.

The screen stays unchanged for a moment. Then _Typing._

F: that's a pretty tall order.  
A: you think you won't be able to?  
_Typing.  
_F: of course i'm able to. give me three days.  
A: thank you flyn…  
_Typing.  
_F: is there anything else, ma'am? anything at all?

This seems strange to me, until it hits me: He is deliberately giving her the option to ask about Haymitch. Aurora pauses for a long moment, then types, very slowly.

A: how – _Pause_ – is haymitch?  
_Typing. Erasing. Pausing. Typing_.  
F: fine. planning with the rebels. sober. charming as ever.

This causes Aurora to smile.

A: take care, flyn.  
_Typing.  
_F: you too ma'am. await my okay. and by the way, i expect a raise for this.

_connection closed. _Aurora turns to me, still smiling, and I return her smile. These are going to be the three longest days of my life. Aurora goes to sleep in her own quarters for a change, but I stay in the MCC with Tesla, unwilling to leave, afraid that I'll miss the moment the channel opens and Flyn writes again. Miss the chance to talk to Katniss for the first time since the Quarter Quell.

So I sit through Tesla's snores, wondering about what I will say to her. Excitement washes away every thought about sleep. She's okay, she's safe. But in two weeks, we will both be marching upon the Capitol. Surely the rebels won't put her in danger? She's the mockingjay. But I think about what Aurora said. I don't trust Coin, and I hope that Katniss doesn't, too.

What will she think when she sees me? Will she despise me for keeping her in the unknown about my condition? Will she be happy to see me? I hope so. I'm going to tell her the truth about the hijacking. She'll understand. How I miss her… Three days. The longest three days of my life.

The next day, Aurora looks rested and energetic, although she instructs me with a strict voice concerning my time with Katniss. Under no circumstances am I to say her name or reveal where exactly I am.

Five minutes. Five whole minutes I get with Katniss. I know that even this short time is a great endeavour for Aurora, an immense gift. She is risking a lot, and so is Flyn. Who I have no idea about how he'll 'lure' Katniss anywhere, but I guess I have to trust his abilities.

"What about Haymitch?", I ask meekly. She sighs impatiently.

"Peeta, we've been over this…", she begins.

"I think you should at least send him a message. Through me. You asked me to be your voice, after all. What about him? He was the main drive behind the events of the Quarter Quell. He has power among the rebels. If he'd know that you're alive, that he has a daughter who's alive… He would protect you both! With his life!" This is the first time I raise my voice at her.

I'm angry, because she knowingly punishes herself. She has to at least consider the possibility that Haymitch has not forgotten her. Does not hate her. Still cares about her. She just looks at me with this pained, reprehensive look in her eyes, as if I should know better. But I don't. I don't want to know better.

"Suit yourself. Just make sure you don't mention my real name.", she says. Then she's gone, and I'm left alone. But I'm glad, because that gives me the opportunity to think about a code I could tell Katniss, something that, maybe, she would pass on to Haymitch. In the digital library, I look up the meaning of Aurora's name. Sunrise. But below the translation, I find a short paragraph that describes a natural phenomenon. The Northern Lights, also called aurora borealis, are great ribbons of light that appear in the night sky on rare occasions. This, I can use to formulate a code.

I've never been nervous around the cameras, and Haymitch himself has said I'm a natural at presenting myself. But two days later, the moment the message screen lights up and the words "connection established" flash across it, my knees feel like they're made of dough. Flyn's message comes seconds later.

F: ready when you are.

Tesla and Aurora swoop around me, adjusting the camera and telling me where to stand. When they are finished, they both retreat, Tesla holding his computer.

Aurora types: Ready., and gives me a last look. "Five minutes.", she says. "Let's give them some privacy." Then they disappear behind the elevator, and I look at the small light on the camera that suddenly glows up in red. And I know that in this moment, right now, Katniss can see me.


	6. Alive

_Author's Note: Aww, yiss. The two following chapters (the next one will be pretty short, but interesting, promise!) are Katniss' point of view. I don't have many passages in her POV, but I really tried keeping the character genuine - apart from the fact that in my story, she never sees the badly hijacked Peeta, and therefore never distances herself from him. I hope you're with me still, and I was able to provide some good story to keep you company :) Also I got my first review *runs around in circles* Thank you very much! Now, this chapter has a buttload of feelings. It is one of my favourites, though. Prepare to be awwwww-d! _

* * *

The last weeks have been hell. Ever since Annie and Johanna were found in a rebel-controlled factory building in District 11, unconscious, terrified and confused, and without Peeta, I haven't been able to put my thoughts into order. _My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am seventeen years old. My home is District 12. I was in the Hunger Games. I escaped. The Capitol hates me. Peeta was taken prisoner. There was an incident in the prison where he was held. He escaped. He probably escaped. I desperately, against all logic, hope he escaped._

Johanna and Annie don't seem to remember much from their supposed 'rescue'. They both say they saw two people in black and one person in white, but not much more. Where are you, Peeta?, I think every day. During training, during meals, when I go to sleep. Every night I take out the pearl and put my hand against my cheek, feeling the cool surface brush across my skin. Please, be alright. At Annie and Finnick's wedding, I sat around and watched people dance, when Finnick came to sit beside me.

"I'm sure he's okay.", he said and put a hand on my shoulder. The rebels are preparing for the assault on the Capitol. I was assigned to Squad 451, also called the Star Squad, with Gale, Finnick, Boggs and a few other people. Including my camera team. I'm supposed to stay out of the danger zones but still get some action to show to the rebels as a rally.

Somehow, being the Mockingjay is getting harder and harder by every day. If I at least knew that Peeta was safe, or… - and I don't dare to think about this possibility too much – dead, then I could focus. But the weeks go by and he seems to have vanished from the surface of the earth. Although it's a horrible thought, I guess the Capitol wouldn't keep his death a secret. They would televise it all over the place to break the little spirit I have managed to keep together. One night, Prim puts a hand on my arm in the darkness. She knows I'm awake.

"I'm sure he's okay.", she says. I wish not everyone would say that to me.

Peeta is alive. Peeta is dead. In this torn dualism, I spend my days. But today, something is different. I just finished my assault training and sit around the cantina, poking the grey paste on my plate with growing indifference.

That's when I feel watched. As if someone is trying to get my attention, patiently observing me from some shadowy place. I look around. Annie and Finnick are talking to each other quietly, they pay me no heed right now. Gale is off to some special training. So who is it? And then I see him. At the table next to mine, a tall, dark-haired man sits and looks at me calmly. I recognize him from training, his name is Flyn, and he's very good at what he does. He even gets to command a squad at the front lines – something only the best are allowed to do.

Why is he staring at me? When he stands up and hands in his plate, he turns to look at me once more, and I have a strange feeling. As if he's trying to tell me something. So I follow him, and sure enough, he is waiting for me at the cantina exit. I examine him closer. He looks around thirty and has a similar stature as Gale. He arrived here before me and quickly worked his way up the ranks. I hear he even has a communicuff now. Flyn takes a step toward me and leans down a bit. At first I flinch, but he doesn't look menacing.

"I have a message for you. You will want to see it.", he simply says and turns around to walk off toward the elevator. I only hesitate for a moment.

A message? From who? Coin? Probably. Flyn is a high ranking officer. It could only be Coin. Or someone else from command. I walk behind Flyn silently. He doesn't say more.

So when the elevator stops and it's not the command level, I begin to get suspicious. He walks through the corridor with dozens of blue doors, right up to the end, where a small sign says 'Communications Room 77". He opens the door and to my surprise, it's empty. Before I can react, he gently pushes me through the door. Three big monitors with matching keyboards sit on a table, but only one of them seems to be turned on.

I start to panic. What if Flyn is an agent of Snow, here to kill me? Why is noone here? I spin around to look at Flyn, but he has turned away from me to connect his communicuff to one of the monitors with a cable.

"What in the…", I start, but he puts up a hand. With great care, he types some numbers into the communicuff and then some others on the keyboard. This is getting more and more bizarre! What on earth does this mean? He seems to be done with whatever he was doing, because he straightens and gives me a thorough look.

"Five minutes. If you want to send a message, just use the keyboard. I'll be outside, standing guard.", he says. And just like that, he walks out the door and closes it behind him. I stare after Flyn, baffled. Then, I hear it. And my heart literally skips a beat.

"Hello, Katniss." Peeta. Peeta's voice. I whirl around. There, where before had only been static, there he is on the screen. Smiling shyly. Alive. Well. Suddenly, my heart is hammering against my chest like a wild drum and my vision blurs with tears. I know he can't see me, because he speaks again.

"Are you there? Can you see me?", he says, looking concerned. His brilliant blue eyes are fixed on me, or rather the camera. He looks healthy, although a little tired and nervous. But otherwise, he is my Peeta. I rush to the keyboard.

"Peeta.", I type. His eyes flicker to something to my right, his smile widens and I don't know if I'll be able to keep my tears in much longer. My boy with the bread is alive. My heart soars.

"You're alive. You're alive. You're alive.", I type, because I don't know how else to express my feelings right now, but to repeat these words all over again. It seems he has to read whatever I write on a screen that's located to the right of the camera, because he keeps glancing over there.

"I am. I…", he pauses, his voice faltering. I'm not the only one who is overwhelmed. Whatever the Capitol did to him, it didn't break him. My heart soars even higher as he says, "I miss you. Every day. And every night. All the time."

"Come back. Where are you? Are you alright? When we heard about the incident… We didn't know…", I type hastily. He reads. Then he seems to wipe his eyes. I glance at his surroundings. Monitors, machinery, blinking lights. He is in some kind of command center, but where?

"I was rescued by good people. I wanted to see you every day… But… I was sick." He hesitates, and he looks… ashamed. "The Capitol did something to me… They tried to… change me. It's called hijacking. They wanted me to…" I hold my breath. "…hate you. They made me hallucinate on tracker jacker venom, made me believe you were evil, trying to kill me. I'm sorry I didn't try to contact you before, Katniss. I was afraid that… I'll go insane." He apologizes for being tortured by the Capitol. He apologizes for needing to recover. Now I'm actually crying, but a part of me is raging. How much more suffering will Peeta need to endure for my sake? Through tears, I type.

"Don't apologize. This is all my fault." Peeta reads and shakes his head resolutely. Then he smiles.

"No, Katniss. None of this is your fault." It just makes me cry harder.

"Come home. I need you.", I write. He shudders as he reads and his face distorts with sadness. His silhouette moves closer to the camera, and he plants a kiss into the palm of his hand, then presses it to the screen. I lean against the monitor with my forehead touching the screen, my tears spilling down on the keyboard.

"I need you too.", he whispers. "I will be in the Capitol, looking for you." Even though my emotions are threatening to tear me apart, I want to know more. But I know that the time I have with him is running out.

"Where are you? Who are you with?", I ask once more. He steps back again, taking a deep breath.

"I promise to tell you everything when I see you again. I'm in good hands. With people we can trust. Do you trust Coin?" So he knows about Coin.

"No.", I instantly type. Peeta looks me directly in the eye, or at least the camera and nods.

"Good.", he says. "Don't start now." I want to ask him so much more. Instead, I type.

"I was worried sick." He smiles at this, and it's my Peeta, my dandelion, my hope, risen from the ashes.

"Serves you right. You made an arena collapse on me!" I give shaky laugh.

"At least tell me something about the place you are at. Please.", I write. Pondering my request for a moment, his brow furrows and then his face lights up.

"All I can say is that the Northern Lights are soothing. I'm sure Haymitch would like them too." This somehow makes me frown. Why does he bring up Haymitch?

A soft knock on the door startles me in mid-thought. "Time's up.", I hear Flyn's voice say through the door. At the same time Peeta, on the screen, turns to something or someone. I type as quickly as I can.

"Stay safe, promise me!"

"Katniss, I can't stay any longer. But I promise, I will catch up to you in the Capitol. Please, stay safe. I l-" And then, he's gone. The screen goes back to static. Flyn steps through the door and disconnects the communicuff from the monitor while I stand there, thunderstruck.

"Who are you?", I blurt out at him. Flyn takes his communicuff and walks me out of the room, back to the elevator. He doesn't get in with me, but before the door closes, he says, "You'll know soon. But I wouldn't walk around and tell whatever you saw in there to _untrustworthy_ people."

I spend the rest of the day torn between the highest peaks of joy and the raging tides of confusion. Peeta is safe, if what he says is true – and I assume that it is – in good hands. With people we can trust. He said we. He promised me that I will meet him again in the Capitol. Where the war will end. At the final assault. But how will he find me? Then I think about Flyn, someone who seems to work for those people without anyone ever noticing, and I'm sure they will know how to find me.

But why the secrecy? I think that he couldn't talk openly because of several reasons – first, who knows what kind of unsecure channel or frequency he was on. Second, I have a feeling that he is with people who, for some reason don't trust the rebels. No, not the rebels. District 13. Specifically, President Coin. I ponder this for a while. District 13 has lived for three-quarters of a century without bothering to step out into the open. Sure, now they are the driving force behind the rebellion. But only after it was clear that uprisings were seething all around Panem.

Something about this rubs me the wrong way. And then there's Coin, who seems to be cold-hearted and ruthless, very eager to lead us in this time of need, but not very eager to let the power slip from her hands. Peeta's words don't let go of me all day. Not to trust Coin. _Good. Don't start now._ And then something else he said agitates me even more. Hijacking. Memory theft. What the Capitol did to him. They were bent on turning him against me, the boy who had unconditionally loved me for more than a decade.

As I lie in my bed, curled up around myself, I feel the tears coming again. How dare they. How dare they do this to the boy with the bread. He looked healthy, but who knows how many weeks it took to cure him? How much he suffered. Because of me. My fault, all my fault. Is he even cured? And who was the one who did it? Who brought Peeta back to me? My debt to that person, whoever it is, seems to rise into infinity.

And then I think about what he said, that strange thing that made no sense. _The Northern Lights are soothing. I'm sure Haymitch would like them too. _It just seems like such a weird thing to say. Especially because, in my opinion, Haymitch doesn't like anything much. Except white liquor. I know what Northern Lights are, we learned about them in school. I doubt that Peeta could communicate with me if he was actually far enough north to see the Northern Lights.

Could it be that Peeta gave me a clue? Was he not talking about the Northern Lights, but covertly telling me to ask Haymitch about them? But why should Haymitch know anything about Peeta and not tell me? He can be a bastard, but he's not downright cruel.


	7. The Mentor I Never Knew

So the next day, I decide to just ask Haymitch. I walk around aimlessly at first and hope to bump into him by accident, but then I realize that he usually sleeps during daytime. I take the elevator to his level and stroll along the hallway until I come to his door. Of course, he doesn't answer my knock. He's sleeping on a mattress with a stick of blunt metal in his hand. He curses at me when I shake him awake.

"Is there a particular reason you honor me with your presence, sweetheart?", he asks in a grumpy voice as he sits up. I ignore the edge in his tone.

"Listen Haymitch… can I ask you something, in confidence?" Haymitch looks surprised at my question and the seriousness in it. I sit down across from him.

"You sound serious. What is it?", he asks, smoothing his dark curls and straightening to lean against the wall. It's still strange to see him sober all the time, and even though he's the same misanthropic bastard, he can almost be called affable.

"Do you know something… about Northern Lights? Could it be a code for a place, maybe?", I ask hesitantly. The glare Haymitch gives me is almost frightening.

"Where did you hear that expression?", he asks in a strangely toneless voice. His grey eyes are unfocused.

"Is it really important? I just thought…", but he cuts me off.

"_Where_, Katniss?" Now he downright scares me. Haymitch never calls me by my name. Almost never.

"I got a message… from Peeta." This startles him for a moment, and I think he looks glad. "He's alive and well. But he can't… come here right now. I asked him to tell me something about the place he is at. And then he said something strange." Haymitch just looks at me.

"He said… '_All I can say is the Northern Lights are soothing. I'm sure Haymitch would like them, too_.'" A shudder goes through my mentor, and for a moment I see something in his eyes that I have never seen before. Affection. It's only there for a second, but it throws me so much I feel disturbed.

"He didn't say that.", Haymitch whispers.

"Do you think I'm making this up? You know something, Haymitch. Tell me. Remember, no games between us.", I warn him.

"How would he know…" I get the feeling he's ignoring me now, and that makes me angry.

"For the love of –", I begin.

"You don't understand, Katniss." His voice is pained, and this is so alien to me that I fall silent. "How can you? You weren't even born yet, back then. That line… I can only guess what it means. But I don't want to guess. I know it can't be true. And yet…"

"You're not making any sense…", I mutter. He sighs.

"You remember that Snow killed my family, and my sweetheart, two years after the Quarter Quell? The Northern Lights… she was named after them. What Peeta said… How does he know? Did he say anything else?" Haymitch looks more confused than I had ever seen him, and I've seen him confused a lot, while drunk. But he's not drunk. This is different. I shake my head.

"Only that he has been rescued by good people. People we can trust." As he prowls around the room, I go on. "Haymitch. I can see this is hard for you. But we both know Peeta doesn't say things like that lightly. It was all so… clandestine and strange."

"She was from the Capitol, you know?", he doesn't even seem to be listening to me so I sigh, frustrated. The Capitol? So they even punish their own if they get out of line. Just like the redheaded Avox girl. Somehow I can't think of Haymitch as the boyfriend of a Capitol girl. It seems wrong.

"But not like them. Too fragile. Too gentle. Why would he remind me of her, now? Snow killed her. He _did_ kill her, right?" I feel a chill run along my spine, because he sounds unsure now, and a little deranged.

"Didn't… didn't you see her body?", I ask reluctantly.

"I buried my mother and brother, but not her. All I got was a card."

And then, to my utter surprise and horror, he reaches into his grey District uniform, underneath the jacket, and pulls out a card. The paper is faded, wrinkly and yellowed. After all, it's more than two decades old. On the front, a beautiful bird with blue and white feathers has its head turned to face me questioningly. At the back, long, handwritten letters form into a single line:

_As a reminder never to forget, that you live on with her blood on your hands._

My first impulse is to throw the card away so I don't have to touch it a second longer, because it's so repulsive and horrifying, like holding someone's severed arm in your hand. Has he been carrying it around with him for twenty-three years? Suddenly I see a young, less detestable Haymitch on his knees in his house in the Victor's village, holding the same card in his hand, crying out with suffocating desperation. I see him grab his first bottle of white liquor in an attempt to drown the responsibility, to erase it, to forget.

But he can't, he can't because he mustn't. He must bear the guilt for as long as he lives, because forgetting it would disgrace her. The card in my hand seems to weigh a thousand tons. How much more? How much more suffering?

But somehow… this is not right. I'm almost disgusted by myself for knowing the Capitol's cruelty, their way of thinking so well. If they really wanted to break Haymitch, why didn't they send him her body? Why send him a simple card – albeit cruel -, and not just completely destroy him by handing him the bloodied corpse? I wonder if nobody ever suggested this to him, but then I have to ask myself… How many people has he actually told?

"Haymitch… doesn't something about this seem strange to you?" My tone is careful. If I'm wrong… that would mean I have even brought Haymitch sorrow, and that's not something I want to have on my conscience. "You never saw her body. Don't you think it's strange that they didn't… go all the way with their cruelty?" Haymitch answers me in his well-known, cynical manner, but I think this is the first time I'm glad about it. The confused, tortured person I saw the moment before terrified me.

"No, sweetheart. I wasn't in the mental state to ponder the exact degree of the Capitol's barbarism.", he says.

"Well… ponder it now. What if Peeta wanted you to think it through. You never had actual proof of her death. What if…", but he cuts me off, face distorted by rage, hurt and denial again.

"Everyone I have ever loved is _dead_, Katniss! Gone to where nobody can hurt them anymore!" His voice rises until it becomes a thunderous scream and now there is a threat in his posture that makes me want to leave right now, so I let the card drop to the ground and flee the room.

But not before I see Haymitch pick it up and press it against his heart with both hands, buckling and letting out a horrible, wounded sound that haunts me all day.

While I lie on my mattress that night, my thoughts fly to Peeta. Before the transmission was cut off, he said something. "I l-"… Was it _I love you_? Does he still love me, after all that I have done to him? After I failed to protect him so severely. I want to see him. Now. I want to throw my arms around him and feel his strong embrace that has kept my nightmares at bay. The nights on the train seem like a thousand years ago. But he promised… he promised to find me in the Capitol.

Two weeks. I try to be patient, not get too worked up. My thoughts drift again, this time to Haymitch. That strange, tormented, frightening version of him that I saw today. And I try to remind myself that once, a long time ago, he was a different person. A strong, smart, unyielding Victor with loved ones he could lose.

At the edge of my consciousness, a memory creeps about. Something important that Peeta and I saw when we watched the recap of Haymitch's Hunger Games. But I can't grasp it. I must have seen it with only one eye, heard it with only one ear, because that was when he entered the room and interrupted us.

As sleep envelops me and I hear Prim's deep breaths, my mind conjures a beautiful voice. I go searching for its source, and I find Peeta walking in front of me with a white bird perched on his shoulder. Above him, great ribbons of light dance in the sky. The sight feels so soothing, I just stand still and take in Peeta's gentle smile, listening to the bird's song.

_Hidden light shines in the depth of things,  
Is what you think, as your voice sings:  
There's hope.  
Search your heart, open the windows wide!  
Wake from your sleep, and live with pride!_


	8. Calm Before The Storm

_Author's Note: So this is once again a long one. I hope the songs are not annoying, I usually try to take them so they match the story or context. The two in this chapter (it's the only one that has two) have a little special meaning. They are both translated from songs of a Hungarian band. The first "16 tons (of black coal)" is one that should really show both the hardships of the miners in District 12 and how Aurora sees their toughness, their ability to survive in Haymitch. The melody of the second, "If you were by my side" is actually very cheerful. I translated it because it made me think of Peeta as he watched Katniss in school every day, before the Games changed their lives. I don't know, it has some kind of melancholy in it, and maybe the hope that they see each other again soon. _

* * *

"I love you.", I say, but the camera light goes dark before I finish. _Connection closed._ For a moment, I still stare at her words on the screen, as if I could make Katniss magically appear by reading them over and over again. Talking to her, even though it has been short, has stirred up my emotions quite well. My heart is racing as if I'd been running for miles, and I feel a heavy weight being lifted from my shoulders. If I don't stick to the ground, I might float away. She is not mad at me. She missed me.

It's more than I have hoped for, but a small voice in my head warns me. You are still fighting with the hijacked thoughts, it says. You could hurt her. And as soon as the thought creeps in, I start to shiver. Desperation rises in me as I feel the flashback rolling over me, trying to tear me into darkness. I lie awake on fallen leaves and look up. Katniss is sawing through a branch that holds a nest of wasps – no, not wasps: tracker jackers. I try to collect myself, to think of my mantra, but it's slipping away so quickly. Logic… Anchor… That happened. It really happened. But not because she was out to kill me. Focus, I need to… Or was she?! Small hands grab both of mine tightly and the next moment, Aurora's comforting voice reaches me in the dark place I have fallen into.

"Don't leave now. You're here, and everything else is not real.", she sounds so determined that my thoughts fall silent for a moment. "Logic. Anchor. Focus. Reciprocity. Origin. Actuality. Conclusion.", she goes on. I nod slowly and repeat the words in the storm of my thoughts. It starts to subside. When my thoughts are back in order, I suddenly feel tired and desperate. How can I meet Katniss in two weeks, when I still get messed up like this? My knees buckle and I slump to the ground. Aurora kneels down beside me, her hand stroking across my back in gentle circles.

"You did well… It only took you a minute to return, and look.", she says and shows me her hands. I used to hold on to them so tightly during episodes, the circulation stopped and small bruises showed afterwards. I hated myself for it. But now, her hands are their usual pale, though flawless skin tone. I raise my gaze to meet hers, and her eyes are encouraging.

"You did well. You're ready.", she repeats. Today, the anchor from my mantra is her voice, her resolve, her indomitable trust in me. And I truly, deeply hope that I can live up to that trust.

For the next two weeks, I busy myself with training almost all day, except for the few morning hours when I bake. The mood in the Aviary tenses with each day we get closer to the scheduled assault on the Capitol, and everybody is getting ready for the battle. Hawkie hikes through the wilds during daylight, practicing her sharpshooting skills, and gets instructed by Tesla at night, until they both fall asleep next to each other. She's not only an excellent sniper, but also a hacking and sabotage specialist who carries Tesla's disrupting or electronic devices into battle.

I learn that navigation inside the Capitol's boundaries will be complicated for us, and we need all kinds of equipment for our journey. The streets are littered with trap-like pods ready to unleash some kind of horror if activated. What's in the pods can range from a simple explosion to gruesome death-rays that melt the flesh from your bones. Each of us will carry an armband that projects a detailed holographic map with pod locations, courtesy of District 13, Aurora's knowledge and Tesla's brilliance.

The rest is a cake-walk. Only dozens of cameras in the streets we have to disable with a disrupting device, well-armed Peacekeepers patrolling around every corner, genetically engineered muttations that could very well be giant flesh-eating rats or something even more vicious. And the rebel troops, which we need to avoid in order to reach Katniss before they reel us in for questioning.

Waltz and Archie design an armor suit for me, since Waltz is the best when it comes to knowing armor and Archie can put it all together. The undersuit is made from soft, comfortable leather and is followed by a hardened chestpiece. Archie proudly explains that the material is a hybrid of metal and some sort of bonding agent, which makes it both protective and flexible in a fight. Then comes a warm jacket together with the straps that will hold my weapons. It has a hood that will conceal my blonde hair and part of my face, so enemies, cameras or even rebels can't recognize me easily. The pants are simple, although they have a few protective plates of Archie's wonder-stuff implanted at the front. At last, leather gloves and sturdy leather shoes, but only for my good leg. I notice the fabric on my prosthetic side has a zipper to make it fit perfectly.

Waltz and Archie urge me to move around, jump, run, duck, for evaluation. They are pleased with the results, and so am I. As Hawkie's and Waltz' armor, mine is pitch black all the way. Coach and Misa are getting ready too, since they will join the assault, whereas Tesla and Archie are going to communicate with us from the Aviary. We watch the troop movements until we are all anxious and scatter around the house. Aurora is mostly too busy with planning, never seen without a map or a report, so we don't talk much during these days.

On the night before the assault, I just can't sleep. Even in the Games, where it was impossible not to kill someone at some point, I hated the thought of taking another human's life. But this is open war, and it's not just about me anymore. Afraid of what the morning will bring, I toss and turn in my bed. What if we don't make it in time, and something happens to Katniss? What if I lose it the moment I see her? Gale will be with her. He'll protect her. Even from me.

But it doesn't assure me as much as I'd like it to, and my thoughts circle around the danger both of us will be in by this time tomorrow. And not just us, but the Avian Squad, the people who rescued me from becoming an insane murderer, a soulless shell, who shared their everything with me, kept me safe, cured me, and who I grew to trust and love. My family was lost in the fire. Everything I had, except Katniss, was gone. But here, I was born anew.

A dreadful fear grabs my heart and seems to squeeze it so tight it hurts, when I think that all of it could be taken away again tomorrow. They could all die, Hawkie, Coach, Misa, Waltz… and Aurora. Sleep won't come tonight. Not with these kinds of worries. I throw back my blanket and fling myself out of bed, strapping on my fake leg. To my surprise, the great metal door leading to the surface is ajar, which is one of the gravest violations of the Aviary's rules.

On the other hand, nobody cares about these things anymore. We won't be attacked with rebels and Capitol at each other's throats, hundreds of miles away, and neither side can spare one of their few hovercrafts to fly around the wilderness now. Still, only one person would trespass such a rule freely.

Cool, fresh air fills my lungs when I step out into the cloudless, moonlit night. Silver light floods the meadow and bathes the tall grass in its soft white glow. Aurora stands motionless, surrounded by the field's heaving blades, her arm stretched out before her, the moonlight reflecting off the sword in her hand. I wish I could capture what is before me on canvas so it would be preserved forever. So I could show Katniss why this woman, who is a healer and a warrior at the same time, has been called so many different names, and why she is all of them. The White Queen, the blue jay, the Northern Lights. Songbird.

Aurora swings her sword slowly with precision and sidesteps like a dancer, then stays still again in her new position. It's not an exercise of strength or swiftness, but rather a practice of concentration. I watch her for a while, since she seems to be oblivious to my presence. Her movements are fluent, almost soothing, like small waves hitting a sandy shore. When she notices me a few minutes later, her face struggles to maintain a calming expression.

"You should be asleep, Peeta.", she says matter-of-factly and lowers her weapon.

"So should you.", I answer, smiling. Aurora's simple robe and her loose, white hair seem to be shining with the moonlight as she turns to face me.

"I'm still mad at you for the comment with the Northern Lights." Normally, I would flinch at her words, because I don't want to be facing her wrath in a million years. Only her voice is not serious at all.

"You know I had to do that… I still believe that Haymitch never really forgot you. Don't you miss him?" I search her face and find that she is looking at me, grey eyes reflecting my blue ones like a mirror. In its surface, I see my own thoughts and feelings as she answers me, the same words I have said to Katniss two weeks ago.

"Every day. And every night. All the time." For a moment, we just look at each other in silence. Then Aurora sighs. "But what I want and what is right are two very different things."

"Doesn't he at least deserve to have a say in this decision?", I ask softly. Now Aurora is smiling despite herself.

"You… are too charming for your own good. If I had left you to the rebels, you'd have talked your way through to the Capitol.", she says a bit begrudgingly. It makes me chuckle.

"I hear that a lot. But what I haven't heard a lot lately is you sing. Would you do me the honor?"

"Anything you want.", says Aurora, "What kind of song would you like to hear?" I have to think for a moment.

"One of those you sang for Haymitch. The ones you weren't allowed to sing. From District 12, maybe?" It doesn't take her longer than a few seconds to decide and the wind carries her voice over the meadow, the fields and woods, the wastelands. And maybe, just maybe, it will reach Haymitch once again.

_Sixteen tons  
Of black coal,  
Sixteen tons  
Buried in this hole,  
And how much more blood?_

_Wish we could die,  
Right here and now  
But the guys up high,  
Shall not allow  
My soul to be free!_

_Sweetheart, follow me,  
Our last fight, this shall be!  
Sweetheart, come with me,  
No one else I'd rather see! _

_Sweetheart, don't you cry,  
These stairs lead to the sky!  
They're the only road left,  
Out of this mess!_

_And how much more blood,  
Until my soul is free?_

Although the melody is cheerful, the lyrics make me feel strangely heavy. The song is so characteristic for 12, but I instantly understand why the Capitol had it banned – much too rebellious for their taste. They couldn't erase it entirely, though.

"I know this song.", I say after Aurora has fallen silent, "Or at least the melody. The coal miners hum it sometimes on their way to work… They used to.", I correct myself.

"This is what the Capitol, or rather my father, cannot understand. You can ban a song to force people into silence. You can torture a nation to force them into fear. You can kill every soul who opposes you to force all others into submission. But you cannot kill an idea. An idea is a concept, a state of mind, not something you could stab or strangle or murder. And sometimes it spreads like a wildfire. The song will be hummed, the nation will rise from the ashes and the vanquished will be avenged by the living." She looks down at the blade in her hand, as if the realization has hit her just now, her voice full of wonder. "He has nowhere to run."

"We are going to stop him.", I assure her.

"But at what cost?", she sighs. When she looks at me again, her expression is stern and strict.

"There are two rules I insist on. And I will only ask you once." I nod, a bit daunted.

"You will not deliberately endanger yourself. You will duck, run, and keep out of enemy sightlines. Leave the fight to me." I open my mouth to oppose, but she puts up a hand. "I trained you so you can defend yourself only if it's utterly unavoidable. No heroics. Promise me."

"Fine.", I say in a defeated tone. Aurora nods.

"And secondly. If I fall, you will, under no circumstances, come to my aid." The color drains from my face at this request. But she's serious, her features carved from marble. Does she even know what she is asking from me? Leave her behind if she is injured or captured. With her first rule, I could live. Not with this.

"You can't possibly think that I agree to that." My voice sounds outraged, but I make no effort to hide it. She must be insane if she actually thinks I'd let her die. Or worse. I take a step closer to her.

"And in your heart, you do know that I never will. If you won't address your deepest hopes, then I will do it for you. You made me your voice, and this is all I can do not to disgrace you.", I begin, taking a deep breath. "I will come with you to the Capitol. I will duck, run, and keep out of enemy sightlines. If you get injured, I'll carry you. If you resist, I'll be beaten and struggled against, but I'll carry you anyway. You are going to save your daughter and meet Haymitch again. I'm going to introduce you to Katniss and she will grow to love you just like I did. And we will live in peace for the rest of our long lives."

Aurora looks at me, her face overflowing with the emotions in it.

"Do you really believe that?", she whispers.

"I do. Because you are my family now. My kindred spirit. I never thanked you for rescuing me. Maybe I won't ever be able to repay you for all of your kindness. But I have to try. You know why." My voice is gentle and she closes her eyes for a moment.

"Because you and I are so much alike, it frightens me sometimes.", she repeats the words from the evening when she confessed her real name to me. A single tear rolls down her pale cheek, but her lips form the slightest smile. "Kindred spirit. I like that.", she says, and I return her smile. After a moment of silence, I simply lie down in the tall grass.

I realize that I have never spent the night under the sky. Of course, in the Games, I have done it plenty of times. But that was an arena, and therefore doesn't count. The night sky is beautiful, truly a sight to behold. Here in the wilderness, the stars are not clouded by city lights or industrial fog. The smell of coal and dust that lingers over District 12 is missing. The artificial, strange lighting from the arena made the sky look slightly wrong, like some flaw in your peripheral vision that you can't put your finger on.

But above the meadow, thousands and thousands of lights form a twinkling band. It reminds me of Cinna's dresses for Katniss, uncountable jewels embedded in the smooth fabric of the sky.

"Is there a rule against spending the night out here?", I ask, letting the view calm my worrisome thoughts. Aurora sits down next to me and slides her slim, curved blade into a delicately ornamented sheath.

"Not today.", she simply says. And so we just sit in silence for a while, enjoying the starlight. The soft breeze. The calm before the storm. Then I ask her to sing another song. And as I listen to this one, I know it's not for Haymitch. It's for me and Katniss.

_I'd follow, but you forbid me to,  
So through the window I look after you,  
Like a little boy who doesn't believe  
That now it's time to leave._

_The fairy-tale's over and I dream,  
That flowers bloom by the hillside stream,  
And above the clouds, the sun shines bright,  
If you were by my side._

_I'd wipe away your tears when you cry,  
And show you there's no need to sigh,  
For tomorrow would be alright,  
If you were by my side._

_The fairy-tale's over and I dream,  
That I wake to the sun's warm, sweet beam,  
Caressing me with her honest light,  
If you were by my side._

_If you were by my side,  
And held my two hands tight,  
I wouldn't let you go,  
Not in this life, no!_


	9. Into The Lion's Cave

_Author's Note: First of all, thank you for the reviews and favs, to everyone! I really appreciate it and hope you continue with me further along :) Dear __**Guest**__ who tried to send me a few messages through review, I'm sorry that I didn't reply to you right away - what I didn't know is that FF has a moderation for Guest reviews, and I didn't know why yours didn't show up until I saw that! Thank you too, and to your question: I actually had to look up Michigan U.P. because I don't live in the U.S. and I had no idea! You are almost right - I used a lot of fictional maps of Panem to decide where the Aviary lies, but I imagined it being right above the Michigan U.P., where the three great lakes meet (so it's actually in Canada already), a little above Salt Ste. Marie. On my map, Michigan U.P. belongs to District 8 still, and the lakes are the border to the Wilderness. I hope this answers your question somewhat :) Also I'm not offended at all that you picture Haymitch like in the movies! There's no restriction to imagination - and to be honest, at first I described him with blonde hair, then changed it to stay closer to the book concerning physical appearance. And now, let's see how the Aviary is getting ready for the assault on the Capitol... _

* * *

In what only seems minutes later, Aurora gently shakes me awake. It must be the crack of dawn, because the world is a dull grey, the air chilly and moist with dew.

"It's time.", she says quietly, and I shiver in the cold as I straighten. Strained silence awaits us in the armory, where the four members of the assault squad are already getting dressed. Archie and Tesla help me to put on my armor and place my weapons into their designated places. The two blades are in crossed sheaths on my back, held by firm leather straps. Waltz, who is already fully dressed and armed, grabs the straps where they meet below my heart and pulls them for good measure. It makes me sway slightly, but I hold my ground. He nods, seemingly satisfied, and tells me to reach for the machete's handle. This is what it must feel like for Katniss when she draws her arrows from the quiver. I have no difficulty grabbing the handle and pulling the blade out and Waltz nods once more.

"Good. No need to tighten the straps or readjust them." My gun is simply hanging from a leather band that Archie drapes over my shoulder. He fixates its side at my belt so my shoulder won't be exerted by the weight and shows me how to reattach the weapon after I have simply pulled it from its cradle. I feel uneasy, being so heavily armed. In the Games, I carried a blade similar to the ones I have now, but I had never been trained to actually kill with it.

Silently, I wonder if soldiers feel like this before going into their first real battle. Torn between the horror of taking a life and the wish to defend the ones they love. Tesla places the armband around my wrist that will show me where the live trap-pods are and instructs me how to use it. I get two more devices. A communicator to put into my ear, so I can hear the others and talk to them. It's a strange little piece made from flexible, seethrough material. I can see the electronics inside of it, but of course I have no idea what I'm looking at. So I place it in my ear and it adjusts to the hole in the conch quickly, until I only feel a faint pressure. The second thing, I get from Archie and it looks like a simple silver bracelet with a slightly raised, round ornament on its surface. As soon as he puts it around my free wrist, there is a strange clicking noise that sounds like a lock.

"What's this for?", I ask, a bit frightened. Archie holds my hand in an iron grip.

"Now listen closely. This bracelet contains a lethal dose of morphling. If you are captured and you don't want to face torture or worse, you click this button" – he points at the ornament – "three times, always three seconds apart. It will release the drug into your system and give you a painless death in less than a minute. This is the last way out. The exit strategy if all else fails. Are we clear?" I nod, not really sure I feel comfortable walking around with a lethal dose of morphling on my arm, but it seems like a good way to go. If one has no way out.

"Three times, three seconds apart.", Archie emphasizes the words once more.

"I don't see a lock. What if I want to take it off? Not sure I want to wear it for the rest of my life…", I say jokingly.

"The only way to get rid of it is to hack off your hand.", Archie says and my eyes widen with horror. Waltz, who stands next to us with his own bracelet, punches him in the shoulder, which makes him grunt in pain. "… or to say the passphrase, of course!", he goes on, rubbing the sore spot and muttering curses under his breath.

"So what is it?", I ask Archie.

"_We_ _must have reasons for speech but we need none for silence_." And surely enough, the bracelet clicks open and falls to the ground as soon as he said the words. I put it back on again and memorize the words.

"Is it the same for everyone?"

"No.", he says, "They are all different. I'm especially fond of Aurora's." I look at him questioningly.

"_All generalizations are wrong, including this one_." Mischief glints in his eyes and I know that he is of much better use plotting from the Aviary than coming with us to the fight.

"Good luck, crazy boy.", says Archie with a pat on my shoulder. It would probably be insulting if it came from anyone else, but this is Archie. He may be crazier than me yet. The living proof that genius and madness go hand in hand.

"Get away from him, you lunatic.", Tesla interrupts and pushes Archie out of the way. Then he eyes me from head to toe and I think I see a hint of remorse in his dark, intelligent eyes.

"The miss has a soft heart. Otherwise she wouldn't tolerate that basketcase." He doesn't sound serious, though. When he pulls me into a tight hug, I'm taken by surprise.

"I really hope you find your girl. I'll be here, watching your moves, making sure you all come home." Tesla seldom speaks much, but when he does, it carries an air of finality that doesn't leave people unmoved.

"Thank you.", is all I can say. My preparations are finished so I can watch Aurora get ready. As our commander and leader, she is the last one to be dressed and armed. And by far the most impressive one. I only saw her in her armor once, and back then my mind was clouded and hazy from the torture. Hawkie puts her into the firm white jacket that has a distinguishable, thin layer of the same protective plating I wear on my chest embedded into its fabric.

I can't help but notice how little and less thick it seems than mine. The sleeves are loose and masterfully embroidered with silver thread. Birds in flight, fragile branches, lifelike flowers, all shimmering in the light of the armory. The cape Hawkie drapes over her head is much simpler, although the edges are inlaid with white fur. When she is finished, it falls fluently over Aurora's left side, leaving the right one open from the shoulder down. I feel like I'm watching a strange, almost terrifying transformation. Not because I'm afraid of her, but because it is so hard to imagine her as a skilled warrior. I've seen her kill a man with a single stroke of her sword, but ever since then, she was nothing but gentle.

Finnick once said to me that the deadliest enemy is one you would never imagine attacking you. I think he might have been on to something. Aurora turns her back to me and Hawkie moves to put up her hair. I watch as she gathers the long, almost white strands that always remind me of a type of grass I saw in Katniss' plant book. Grass usually doesn't bloom, but this one was different, producing feathery white flowers I loved to paint. Hawkie places two exquisite silver wings in her hair to hold it in place. I'm not really an expert on hair decoration, although I remember Katniss wearing a lot of it whenever we had to look presentable in front of the cameras. I notice that this is the only piece of jewellery I have ever seen Aurora wear. Something about it seems vaguely familiar, like meeting an old friend but not quite remembering his name. Aurora attaches the same three items that I got on herself, only she doesn't need to be instructed in their use. Then, Hawkie hands her the sword.

Once, I asked Waltz about Aurora's sword. He explained that it was made by an old man with almond-shaped eyes and copper skin, who came from a long lineage of swordsmiths, dated back even before Panem ever existed. The single-edge blade is long, slender and curved, sharp enough to cut through flesh and bone as if it was butter. The sword and the sheath, which is a piece of art on its own, are both one of a kind, no machine-made weapons but forged by real hands, in a process that took months. Aurora also carries a handgun that she casually puts into a holster at her left side. I wonder if this is just for convenience or if she actually shoots with her left hand. The last thing she is handed looks like a very unusual glove. The backside is almost completely covered with a net of wires and small metal constructions. I have no idea what they do, but I guess I'll find out soon enough. After Aurora pulls it over her hand, she turns to us, her eyes wandering over each face. There is something strange in her gaze, something similar to regret, but not quite it. As if she'd want to tell us she's sorry everything has come to this.

"This is the last chance if any of you wants to change their mind. To turn around and walk away from this." Her voice is strict, but there is no hint of reproach in it. She really wouldn't hold it against us if we would just walk away. But of course, nobody does. Coach and Waltz just stand still like great statues from black marble. Misa fiddles with her bags of medical supplies silently. Hawkie rolls her shoulders, making the impressive barrel of her sniper rifle tremble. It's almost as long as she is tall. A long moment passes and Aurora nods.

"I thought as much.", she says, a nearly imperceptible edge of disappointment in her words.

And so I leave the Aviary after months of recovery and with a sense of homesickness already before we climb the hovercraft ramp. The great shutter opens, the engines come alive, and as the iron bird rises above the meadow I feel a wave of pure panic crashing down on me. Very similar to the moment in the arena when Katniss turned away from me, Beetee's coil in her hand, the moment I knew that something terrible was going to happen and I would be powerless to stop it. All I can do to distract myself is listening to Aurora's voice as she debriefs us for the hundredth time, but nothing will drown out the nerve-wrecking fear that I might never see this place again. The flight takes hours and we scatter around the hovercraft, all anxious, all restless.

I watch the great lakes ripple by, then the smoking, ugly rooftops of District 8 with its grey high factory towers sticking into the air like giant cigars. When the wide farmlands of District 10 come into view, I feel someone sitting down next to me and I instantly know it's Aurora. She holds a bundle of paper sheets in her hand, clipped together with a pin. Her face is tinted with sadness.

"I wanted to give you these on the day I would officially discharge you from psychiatric care. When I would deem you cured.", she begins. I catch the glimpse of the Capitol's seal on the front page before she speaks again. "You still need treatment and therapy to some extent. But… there is a chance that I won't be able to serve as your doctor much longer." I open my mouth to object, but she interrupts me. "Let's make a deal. If… I don't return, or I'm… incapacitated, you give these to your new doctor. If I return, you give them back to me."

She hands me the paper and I read the title, printed in black capital letters: _Treatment Protocol for War Prisoner_, and below, handwritten, my name: _Peeta Mellark._ At the bottom, a slanted, fragile signature seems to laugh back at me gleefully: _Authorized by President Coriolanus Snow._

My first impulse is to fling the sheets away, but that would be denial to the hardships I endured, so I flip through them. There are simple typed protocols of the things the Capitol has done to me, descriptions of my behaviour, feelings, relationships. Full-body scans, drawings they had me do, pictures of me as I progress through their hijacking plan, pictures of Katniss or whole pages about Katniss, just about everything, a painstaking dissection of myself. At the back I find a dozen crumpled and torn pages. I remember stealing them with great effort, together with a small pen, to scribble down things I needed to remember. Or just thoughts. It was some sort of self-therapy when it started to dawn on me what they intended to do. I look at my pitiful handwriting, sometimes so scrambled it is unintelligible, and remember how I hid the thin sheets in a hole in the wall. How I soaked them with my tears. How I almost tore them apart in my rage. How I desperately clung to them at night. These sheets know all my pain, steeped with my sorrow, forged in what I have endured. One day, I might be able to show them to Katniss.

"I recovered all of this during your rescue mission. Are you mad at me for not giving it to you sooner?", Aurora's voice drags me from my deep thoughts. I shake my head.

"I probably wouldn't have been able to handle it before. I'm not even sure I am now.", I say and fold the sheets into shape, stuffing them into the small belt pouch that holds my first aid kit. We don't speak any more until the snow-capped mountains rush past us. Their white cover looks like a kind of pastry I liked to bake, a muffin from dark dough powdered with icing sugar. "We are almost there.", Aurora informs me. A tense expression has crept onto her face and I know this is it.

The candy-like Capitol comes into view minutes later, only now it's not so candy-like anymore. Smoke rises from countless buildings, tall towers and low-rise houses alike, signs of destruction jumping into the viewers face everywhere. All the rioting colors and lights seem to have dulled, although sometimes they flicker and illuminate places in an eerie manner, like some sick hallucination. The streets we fly above are mostly empty, except for some advancing rebel troops that are scattered around this ghost-town. I know that large parts of the city have been evacuated to the inner circle, closer to Snow's mansion. We fly past rebel frontlines into no-man's land, where the hovercraft sets us down in an abandoned street.

My feet touch solid ground and the finality of it all hits me like a hammer. I will either reach Snow's mansion, meaning the war will end, or I'll die somewhere in these streets. Either way, this is where we come to a conclusion.


	10. Ghost Town, Dead Streets

_Author's Note: For some description of violence in this chapter, I am moving this to rating M to be sure. _

_Also: Here be cliffhangers. _

* * *

"Disruptor's online. Cameras in a fifty yard radius should only see peaceful streets now.", Tesla's voice says over the communicator. Aurora, Hawkie, Waltz, Misa and Coach all take a look at our surroundings. They look tense with concentration and activate their holograms, so I follow their example. A green-yellowish map appears, cluttered with red dots that I know to be trap-pods.

"Hawkie, scout ahead.", Aurora says in a quiet tone.

"Aye, Ma'am.", the tiny sharpshooter answers, and soon I can spot her on rooftops, always one step ahead of us as we move through the streets littered with danger. For a while, we meet nobody at all. Waltz and Coach cover our flanks and send pods exploding with precise shots, while Aurora, Misa and I walk carefully between them.

The silence is eerie, almost pressing. The building walls seem to close in on us, flickering streetlights casting strange shadows across our path. This goes on for hours, until I feel like unseeing eyes are watching me from the darkness, from windows, from behind corners. Shivers creep along my spine and I start hating this silence, this looming sense of threat everywhere. The others sometimes exchange quiet conversations, Tesla updates us on the rebel movements, but I seem to grow more and more restless the farther we walk into this abandoned ghost-town.

"They have lost contact.", Tesla's voice suddenly sounds in my earpiece. Aurora, who walks at the head of our squad, stops in front of an intersection with a colourful shop sign. She looks up at the swirling violet letters, then to our left and right, where the roads seem to go on into eternity. Everything looks the same here after a while.

"What do you mean?", she asks, fixating on our right. Her eyes are darting around between the painted facades, ever so vigilant.

"Rebels lost communicator channels with the Mockingjay's squad about twenty minutes ago." My heart drops to my stomach. Aurora turns around, but her eyes look past me, somewhere into the distance. She is trying to grasp the meaning of Tesla's words just as I am.

"Where?", her voice rises impatiently.

"Between Victory Lane and the third housing block.", Tesla answers.

"That's almost four miles away! How could they lose contact so quickly?", she sounds agitated now, as if she hadn't expected this. Fear grips me so tightly that I can't even move if I wanted to.

"They must have been picked up by the street cameras. Capitol is televising the whole thing. A black wave came and buried everything –", but then Archie's cuts across him.

"One of the pods. I have an idea they used this material I got my hands on once. Like a gas, but coalesces into rubber after a while. Must have fried their communicators." Coach and Waltz exchange a long look, and I feel as if someone had just poured ice down my lungs.

"Aurora…", I manage to croak but she gives a stiff shake of her head, almost a jerk.

"They are alive. They are smarter than this.", she says, and I don't know how she can possibly be sure about this, but I cling to her words like a drowning man to driftwood. Her eyes drift off again, and I know she is combing through her incredibly precise memory of the Capitol streets, trying to figure out Katniss' next move.

"She won't go back. She'll try and reach Snow.", I say with an unsteady voice. For the first time, I am furious at Katniss for her impulsiveness, because all it will do is get her into mortal danger. We were supposed to clear the streets of pods and, if we encounter any, Capitol troops so the rebels could advance more quickly, while we keep careful tabs about Katniss' movements. The plan was to move parallel to her and meet her halfway, but now we have no idea where she and her squad will go.

"They are going to the sewers. They won't risk the streets or rooftops, because of the cameras, and the pods. As far as we know, they have an Avox with them who used to work down there.", muses Waltz.

"The sewers have much less pods, but… they are far from safe.", Aurora seems to weigh her words carefully. She looks unhappy, annoyed even.

"The end of the evacuation zone is still five miles ahead. If they cause any commotion… Tesla will know it.", Hawkie says.

"I hope we're not too –" But Aurora doesn't finish her sentence. Because from the corner to our left, a dozen Peacekeepers emerge. They clearly didn't anticipate us here, judging by the dumbfounded look that flashes across their faces, just before they raise their weapons. The first shot misses me by an inch.

I can feel the bullet fly past me as I duck behind a solid stone shop sign, but the man who fired it isn't as lucky. His skull disintegrates into an ugly mess, perforated by Hawkie's deadly precision. Waltz and Coach move with such quickness and grace they remind me of great black cats, pouncing in and out of cover to deliver short bursts from their rifles. The patrol of Peacekeepers scatters around the street, but they seem to have problems dividing up what little protection it offers them. Panicked orders are barked, two more hit the ground and their companions stumble over the bodies.

One of them – he doesn't have a gun for some reason – runs towards my hiding place with a long club in his hands. And then there's a flash of white, a glint of silver, and he collapses to his knees, blood spluttering from his mouth. The long blade sticking out of his torso disappears in a second and Aurora is whirling – no, dancing again, like a banshee. The Peacekeepers are thrown off by the precision of our assault, and as they fall to Waltz' and Coach's shots, or are hit by Hawkie from nowhere at all, or cut down and skewered by Aurora, they seem to realize that these are no mere rebels.

But it's too little, too late. The leader, a tall man with a dark moustache, is persistent though. One of his shots sets off a pod that sends razor sharp shrapnel flying everywhere. I'm safe behind my shop sign, but one of them buries into Coach's calf and I hear him grunt in pain. I want to come to his help immediately, but then I remember what I promised Aurora. Stay out of enemy sightlines. That's when I see it. What Aurora can do with her glove. She swings the cloak to the side and raises her hand, which is now glowing like a piece of ember. The next moment, a white hot fireball launches from it and engulfs the last Peacekeeper, whose burning body is thrown to the ground, writhing and flailing. Then he moves no more, and silence settles over the battlefield. I rise from my cover and see Aurora hurrying to Coach, Misa at her heels. When I close in I notice the blood slowly drenching his pants.

"Status.", Aurora says sharply. Hawkie answers at once.

"They were hidden by the high walls. I'm sorry, ma'am… No other hostiles on our perimeter."

"I need to remove the shrapnel and tend to the wound.", Misa says in a quiet voice. We scout along the opposite way from where the Peacekeepers came until night falls and Aurora deems it safe for us to hide in one of the houses. Coach is limping considerably, but he's tough like a punching bag. Waltz breaks the front door of a blue-green colored house and we settle in for the night.

I've seen a lot of the Capitol's decadence, but it never seizes to appal me. The interior of the house looks like it had been chosen by someone who thought stuffing more and more colors together makes a good balance. Large violet sofas line the living room, the vivid green of the wallpapers hurts my eyes. Strange rectangular patterns seem to keep me from focusing on anything in particular, but what's worst are the half-eaten cans of food lying around everywhere. As if they had the luxury of keeping canned food around even while they didn't need it at all. Going to waste while people were starving all around the country.

Waltz and Misa set Coach down on one of the sofas and Misa gets to work on his wound. This is the first time I see her work, and she's pretty amazing. An hour later, she has removed the shrapnel, cleaned the wound and wrapped it up with a white bandage. Aurora tells me we will stay here tonight and let him rest. He should be good as new by morning. So we eat, more out of habit than from being hungry, listen to Tesla's reports, even watch a little Capitol news on the giant flatscreen. I settle down on a sofa and find it to be surprisingly comfortable. I try to get some sleep, but my mind wanders to what Aurora said today.

That Katniss must still be alive. During the fight against the Peacekeepers, I didn't let myself worry, but now the thought of Katniss being choked by that awful black gas swallows me whole. No, she's with reliable people. People who will keep her safe. It seems I've been trying to convince myself about this for a long time, and never managed to succeed completely. I know that, even though I trust Gale to protect her, my mind will only truly be soothed when I can finally, finally hold her in my arms.

When I can be her shield again. Gale had been my rival for years now, and there had been times when I'd given up competing with him because I thought that Katniss has made her choice. But somehow I doubt he understands my relationship with her, or hers with me. I doubt he ever tried to. He's a fighter, that guy, like Katniss. Only Katniss is tired of fighting. She has fought for her family's survival ever since her father died, fought to survive in the Games, fought to keep me alive, fought in the rebellion.

And although she is stronger than anyone I know, she is also incredibly fragile. Gale would never understand what it is about protection with me and Katniss. He never saw her face after she awakened from one of her nightmares. That utterly forsaken look in her eyes only I was able to calm. Those nights where she wouldn't fall asleep again until I cradled her in my arms.

I protect her because I love her more than my life, but also because underneath the huntress, the fighter, the girl on fire, there is a scared little bird whose wings are beating against the storm that has encased her. If I could reach out my hands and catch her when she falls, and encourage her to try again… because the storm will end, it has to. If I could shelter her, and wait for the thunder and the rain to pass us by, until the sun rises anew. What terrifies me is that I really don't know how much more suffering she can take, until the wings finally break and she plummets to the ground, lost to me forever. I have to protect her… The last thing I feel before the tiredness drags me down to sleep is a gentle hand stroking my hair, light as a feather.

I'm roused by Tesla's voice in my earpiece. It's still nighttime, because Misa and Coach are sleeping soundly on the couches.

"Some news, ma'am. Flyn got injured.", Tesla says quietly. I see Aurora's form sitting in an armchair, but I'm sure she's awake.

"How bad?", she whispers in the darkness.

"Not life-threatening, but he was brought back to one of the field camps. Doubtful he'll fight again any time soon.", our tech-specialist explains.

"At least he won't get himself killed any time soon either.", Aurora says with a little edge in her tone. I guess she's still mad at Flyn for getting into a front line squad. She grows attached to her people and never likes to put them in danger if it can be avoided. I don't think she knows that I'm awake, because she wouldn't ask the question if she'd know I was listening.

"What about Haymitch?"

"Word is he seemed… confused in the last few days. But he's there. Not fighting, though. Planning with the rebels in the command camp." There's a brief silence. "We could… get a message to him, if you'd like to." Aurora sighs.

"You are starting to sound like my protégé.", she whispers.

"Well, maybe he has a point…", Tesla says, scowling. To that, Aurora doesn't answer, but I can feel her staring at me, so I pretend to be asleep.

We keep scouting the streets for two days, shooting up pods, sleeping in some person's abandoned home for a few hours at night. But we don't encounter any more Capitol troops, which seems odd. Maybe they have their hands full with the rebels, since those are advancing too, surely enough. On the third day, we finally hear news from Katniss.

"You were right, ma'am. Squad 451 took to the sewers. They managed to get within two miles of the evacuation border, but…", Tesla's voice sounds strained and troubled. Aurora stops in her track between a few artificial trees surrounding a park area. The sun has started to set, giving the surroundings a reddish tint.

"What happened?", she asks impatiently.

"Scans show some heavy movement about half a mile from your position. I'm sending you the coordinates. They're in trouble, Aurora.", he says.

"Mutts.", Aurora breathes.


	11. My Kingdom Come

_AN: Thank you for over 1000 views! I'm really.. aw, I didn't think of getting this many in my first week... You guys are really awesome. And very convenient for such a nice achievement is this next one. This chapter is literally... made of feels. I love it. I listened to __**Demons from Imagine Dragons**__ a lot when I wrote this, and I found it so perfectly fitting for Peeta and Katniss. I walked the streets and tried to think up passages, tried to live with them for these moments. Maybe that's the reason this chapter became so dramatic and moving for me, and I hope that you feel a little of it when you read it. How alone they must have felt all this time, even though surrounded by people they loved. In my eyes, they had forged a bond throughout their lives that has this strange ability of bringing out the best of them. I hope you enjoy :) _

* * *

I have no idea how Aurora knows, but there's no time to question her.

"Move out!", her voice is sharp as a knife, and everyone reacts at once. We pick up the pace, only pausing to shoot the pods that hinder us in our way. Hawkie leaps across the rooftops like a deer, Coach and Waltz move like black arrows on either side of me. I start panicking, because even Aurora looks anxious now, although I only catch glimpses of her face as she tries hard not to get disoriented. Even with her remarkable memory, she has to patch together two different maps – the winding sewer tunnels and the cityscape, and even though Tesla gave us some vague coordinates, if she chooses the wrong path…

I try not to think about it, try to concentrate on my hologram, on my feet which are moving too slow, too slow to keep up. Damn this leg! Green and yellow walls flash by, sparkling windows, shiny glass-towers, artificial plants glowing in tasteless, unreal colors. Waltz grabs my arm and hauls me forward so I gain momentum, but I'm still too slow. All I can think about is Katniss being ripped to shreds by a mutt, but Waltz' hand tightens until the pain of his iron grip drags me back into reality. We take turns, dash around corners until I have less than no idea where we are, not that I had any before.

"Two squads of Peacekeepers are advancing on our objective's coordinates, ma'am. I guess they got drawn in by the movement in the sewers too. Here to finish the job if all else fails.", Hawkie speaks into my ear.

"Fish in a barrel, then.", Aurora says. She stops and turns so suddenly that we almost collide, but her hands grab my shoulders tightly.

"Listen to me!"; she says with such harshness, it scares the hell out of me. "There are three exits from the sewers in this area, but I have no way of knowing which they come out of. We'll take care of the Peacekeepers, but promise me, swear on all that is good and holy in this world, as soon as you see Katniss, you run and _you don't look back_!"

Then she shoves me into a space between two cars. Only now I notice why we stopped here. The street to our right ends in a flight of stairs and goes on above it, canopied by a glass dome. Somebody probably tried to drive through the street and realized too late that it's impossible, so the unlucky driver behind crashed his car while braking. Two narrow alleys open not far from us on the other side, as well as the way we came. Aurora directs Coach and Waltz to the latter, where she expects one of the Peacekeeper squads to show up any minute. Then she turns to the stairs.

"Hawkie. Ready?", she says, flying up the stairs as the sniper answers at once. "Always, ma'am." I can only see the back of her white cloak billowing and then she's gone. It only takes a few seconds for the shooting to start. The glass canopy shatters, rubble is blasted off the walls, artificial trees are blown into thousand shimmering pieces.

In between all of the destruction, I muster every piece of attention I can manage to search for signs of her. I pray to every force in the world, strain my eyes to scan the area until they tear from the exertion. I hear chatter in my earpiece, but can't grasp the meaning. That's when my battered mind conjures up Aurora's voice. Or maybe I actually hear it, I don't know.

_When the days are cold  
And the cards all fold  
And the saints we see  
Are all made of gold._

_When your dreams all fail  
And the ones we hail  
Are the worst of all  
And the blood's run stale_

Everything around me is disintegrating, falling apart, reduced to ruins. A burning body flies past me, but still the songbird sings.

_I wanna hide the truth  
I wanna shelter you  
But with the beast inside  
There's nowhere we can hide_

_No matter what we breed  
We still are made of greed  
This is my kingdom come  
This is my kingdom come_

In the narrow alley, a door bursts open. And then I see her. Bloodied and shaken, hair in a mess, face smeared with dirt and grime, bow trembling violently in her hand. But it doesn't matter, all of it, because it's really her, the real Katniss. Her eyes, sparkling from the darkness of her face like pieces of silverware, search for the source of the voice in all the noise, all the mayhem, a panicked animal running from unspeakable horrors towards a ray of hope.

_When you feel my heat  
Look into my eyes  
It's where my demons hide  
It's where my demons hide_

_Don't get too close  
It's dark inside  
It's where my demons hide  
It's where my demons hide_

The battle sounds fade from my mind, my body moves on its own. I step from cover and she catches my sight when I remember I'm still wearing the hood. She has her hand on an arrow that freezes the moment I reveal my face, and for the fraction of a second we stand motionless, taking each other in. Letting the realization sink.

_At the curtain's call  
It's the last of all  
When the lights fade out  
All the sinners crawl_

_So they dug your grave  
And the masquerade  
Will come calling out  
At the mess you've made_

_Don't wanna let you down  
But I am hell bound  
Though this is all for you  
Don't wanna hide the truth_

She screams my name, oblivious to the danger it poses, and the next I know she's breaking into a run, not letting me out of her sight. But I'm running now too, and to hell with this slow leg, with my weakness. If I could run at the speed of light, I still wouldn't be fast enough.

_No matter what we breed  
We still are made of greed  
This is my kingdom come  
This is my kingdom come_

_When you feel my heat  
Look into my eyes  
It's where my demons hide  
It's where my demons hide_

_Don't get too close  
It's dark inside  
It's where my demons hide  
It's where my demons hide_

The Peacekeeper emerging from the other alley almost stops my heart. His gun is raised and aimed at Katniss, vulnerable, exposed Katniss who is careless because she saw me. I don't hesitate. My hand rips the machete from my back the second I see her eyes widen in shock, probably wondering if I have gone mental after all, and trusting me was going to be the greatest, final stupidity of her life. I throw with force I never knew I had, and the blade flies past the love of my life, impaling the Peacekeeper, the blow tearing him from his feet. She doesn't even spare him a second glance.

_They say it's what you make  
I say it's up to fate  
It's woven in my soul  
I need to let you go _

_Your eyes, they shine so bright  
I wanna save that light  
I can't escape this now  
Unless you show me how_

And then all I can feel is her in my arms, the impact of her lunge almost making me fall, and the raging fear in my heart, the voice of yearning, finally falls silent. I press her body against mine, afraid it's not gentle at all, but she does the same, hugging me as if I'd vanish if she lets go for even a second. We're both crying so hard I can't see a thing, but my hands cradle her smudgy face and I kiss her eyes, her cheeks, everything I get a hold of. And she laughs through tears, interrupted by sobs, but she laughs and I join in, thinking that everyone who sees us now will say we lost our minds, we're too far gone, but I don't care.

We mumble senseless words, each others names, and right now, I am the happiest man in the world, if even for just a moment. The sounds of battle diminish around us and as my vision returns, I can see that the fight is over.

"Katniss!", Gale's voice is deep and almost accusing as he steps out the door where she came from. Then he catches my eye and he can't hide the steel in his gaze. Katniss lets go of me and I instantly feel the loss.

She wipes her eyes hastily and I turn my head to see Aurora walking down the stairs, a little shaken, but unharmed. And a second later, two arrows point at my savior's heart.

"Who are you?!", Katniss inquires, her voice still trembling. When I step between Aurora and the arrow, she loosens her grip at once.

"She may be softened by that, but I won't. I'll shoot anyway if you don't explain yourself.", says Gale.

"Gale, wait! Peeta?" Katniss looks at me, confused.

"There's no need to shoot, she's on our side. I vouch for her with my life.", I say loud and clearly. I'm the voice of the songbird.

"Put the bow away, pal. Three guns are pointing your way, it's not worth it. Believe the boy.", Waltz, who looks very beaten up, has moved back into the street with his assault rifle fixed on Gale. He can barely hold himself straight, but to be kept from defending Aurora, he'd have to be deader than dead. Katniss lowers her bow, but Gale hesitates.

"Gale, come on… We can trust Peeta.", she urges him until he too, finally stands down.

And then, a loose piece of façade stumbles to the ground next to us. The sound of the pod getting activated gets my sigh of relief stuck in my throat. Aurora moves faster than humanly possible, and still I see the whole thing as if in slow motion. Her hand grabs Katniss' shoulder and pushes her behind her body, shielding her.

I see the dozen tiny, sharp blades flying. Half of them miss us. Aurora gives a sharp cry of pain and falls to the ground, deep, scarlet blood staining her beautiful white cloak. I think of something incredibly pure being tainted, forever soiled.


	12. Always, After All

The yells from her squad members mingle with my own and hell breaks loose. I fall to my knees beside her, praying again. Three of the blades are lodged in her right arm, the other three skewered her shoulder, and I hope beyond knowledge that they missed vital organs. Misa is instantly there, but her face is filled with shock and it takes her a moment to compose herself. Everyone gathers around Aurora, not just the Avian Squad but the rest of 451 too. Finnick is with them, bloody and battered like the rest, but alive. And two other people I don't know. Katniss crouches down next to me, looking as if she's in a dream.

"She protected me." Her voice sounds incredulous.

"I'm fine. I just… feel a little… pierced.", Aurora says, but the color is already draining from her face and I feel the fear for Katniss being replaced by a whole new fear.

"Help me get her into a safe house.", Misa commands and we all obey.

"I'll scout the perimeter. Make sure no one creeps up on us.", Hawkie says. Even though the goggles obscure her eyes, I know she's crying. With everyone's help, we find a large apartment around the corner and settle Aurora down on a beautiful bed, soaking the white sheets with her blood. Misa shoos us away and shuts the door, but I'm unable to move, paralyzed. Katniss grabs my hand tightly and follows my example. We simply stand there, while I hear the others walk around the rooms, hushed voices talk, someone retells the story of what happened.

"She protected me. I don't even know her name…", Katniss repeats.

"Her name… is Aurora.", I tell her. "She rescued me from my prison. She cured my mind from the hijacking. And now she saved your life." Katniss breaks down after hearing this. She has this concept of dept in her mind, and Aurora is on her list now too, probably ranking somewhere between me and Gale in terms of owing. I pull her trembling form into my arms.

"Katniss. It's not your fault. She'll be okay, she's so strong, and Misa is the best healer I know. Second maybe only to your mother and Prim.", I whisper gently. She gives a shaky laugh.

"Let's go down to the others. There's nothing we can do for her now, but to leave her in Misa's able hands."

Down in the living room, Coach is tending to Waltz' and 451's wounds – since his sister's a medic, he is bound to know some first aid. Finnick got the worst of it, but he gives me a reassuring nod. Gale is less than pleased to see me, though he's hiding it well – more or less. The other two surviving members are Cressida, a young woman with a shaved head and Pollux, a burly avox with sandy hair and a red beard. Finnick explains the happenings of the last few days, how the pod went off and killed their squad leader, Boggs, and how they are on an important mission to kill President Snow. Gale looks more and more agitated at his easily given trust to the Avian Squad, until he interrupts Finnick when he's in the middle of describing the rose-mutts in the sewers.

"We don't even know who these people are, and you're just telling them everything? What if they are Snow's agents?" Finnick looks perplexed for a moment, but it's Waltz who answers.

"Agents who gun down Peacekeepers and save the Mockingjay's life?" His voice is dangerously low.

"He doesn't mean that, he's just confused. You don't belong to the rebels, or 13, so…", Katniss tries to explain.

"I tell them because I know who the woman is that saved Katniss.", Finnick interjects, silencing everyone. I'm intrigued now. "Or at least I have heard rumors about her, secrets being whispered among the few people who weren't at peace with Snow's ways, even in the Capitol." An image flashes through my mind of Katniss standing next to the chariot at the Quarter Quell. _He offered me sugar and wanted to know all my secrets._

"They call her the White Queen, after the chess piece. She was said to help people who were against Snow's regime. That she sabotages him secretly. I just never thought it could really be true…", Finnick says.

"It is true.", I say, and every head turns to me.

"Then why didn't she just join the rebels?", Gale asks, suspicion in his tone.

"Let it go, Gale. She might be dying because she shielded Katniss. I think that's enough to earn our trust.", Finnick cuts him off. When his green eyes find mine, I see that he knows. He who gathered secrets like others gather postage stamps, knows Aurora's last name. But for some reason, he chose to protect her.

"I like that guy.", I hear Hawkie's voice over the communicator in my ear, and I suppress a chuckle. Finnick finishes his story and we recount our own, but less than an hour later, we're all so tired our eyes are drooping. Gale gives me a scowl when I volunteer to take the first watch with Katniss, but I don't care. After months of being away from her, I'm starved for her closeness. In the back of my mind, a small voice warns me about how dangerous I could get if I lost control and plunged into an episode, but I push it away and it's surprisingly easy.

"The roof is very nice. And private. Except for me on the other side, but I'll find something else to watch.", Hawkie says as if she has read my mind.

"Let's head up to the roof.", I whisper to Katniss and she nods. We ascend through a narrow stairway and find ourselves on a fenced rooftop with a small stone garden and a few well-groomed bushes.

"Won't we be seen up here?", Katniss asks, looking around suspiciously. I notice that the city view is not quite right, like the night sky was in the arena, so I pick up a stone and throw it over the fence. It bounces right back to our feet.

"A force field. I bet someone on the outside can only see an empty roof.", I say.

"Whoever lived here liked their privacy.", Katniss muses. We sit down and lean against the wall, looking out into the city that I'm sure is just a hologram. I scoop her up in my arms and we stay quiet for a while.

"Peeta. What did they do to you? When we talked, you said something about hijacking…" She turns her gaze to me questioningly, waiting for an answer. It's hard to find a good starting point, but I try to collect myself.

"At first I was left alone for a few days… Snow came and told me if I want to protect you, I need to tell the rebels to cease resistance.", I begin, reluctant at first. "Then they must have realized that the rebels had no intention of giving up, and… that's when the bad things started." I feel the haunting memories creep up on me and a shiver runs through my body. For a second, Katniss' pained face turns into a look of evil and cold sweat breaks at the back of my neck. No, not now, please not now. But it's too little, too late. I need to get a grip, an anchor, before I drown in my flashback.

"Peeta?", she sounds sorrow-stricken, but I fumble with my belt, my jacket, my first-aid kit in hope I can hold on to one of these things. Something soft hits the ground – the papers Aurora gave me on the hovercraft. Katniss picks them up before I can stop her, and while I rock back and forth, trying to force my thoughts into order, she reads. A sound escapes her, so wounded it manages to get through to me. My mantra. It will finish the job.

"Logic. Anchor. Focus. Reciprocity. Origin. Actuality. Conclusion.", I mumble until I feel my heart calm down, the fear subside.

"You never hurt me on purpose. Is that real or not real?" My question seems to startle her, but as she looks down on the pages in her hands, she seems to understand.

"Real…", she answers, before adding, "I tried to protect you from the day the Gamemakers announced that two people could be crowned victors." I nod, smiling slightly.

"Sometimes… I remember wrong things. Or I'm not sure if what I remember is the right thing. Aurora helped me, but…" Almost ashamed, I raise my gaze to meet hers. There are tears in her eyes, but she doesn't break eye contact. "If I get confused, can I ask you?" My voice must sound pleading, pathetic even. But Katniss only puts her arms around my neck and pulls me close, very gently, as if I'd fall apart by her hands.

"Ask me anything.", she says quietly. Finally, I get to tell her everything. About my time as a hostage, my rescue, my months of recovery and of course, the Aviary and her people.

"You sang and danced every week?", she asks me, unbelieving. It makes me laugh lightly and I nod.

"Yeah. It kept our mood up, you know… They know it's important to enjoy yourself a little even when things are most dire. Otherwise, how would we be capable of doing the things we do, without something to look back on?", I muse and Katniss gives me a strange look.

"Is it me or did you get wiser yet?", she scowls, but only half seriously.

"I always was. As I keep telling you, it's you who's not paying attention…" This tickles a slight smile out of her, but it fades only seconds later. Inclining my head towards hers, our brows press against each other.

"It wasn't easy for you in 13… I know…" She sighs and her eyelids flutter shut.

"They want me to be this person… this leader… But I'm not. I'm just so…", her voice trails away, but I finish the sentence for her.

"Tired. I know." I lean back and pull her to my side so her head rests on my shoulder. Despite my urging to sleep a little, she mumbles stories about her time in 13 to me with closed eyes. Occasionally, when she tells something that bothered or saddened her, I give her a squeeze, but otherwise I just listen silently. Speaking to me about these things seems to be like emptying a giant vessel that was in danger of overflowing for a long time. Bit by bit, ounce by ounce her feelings spill from her, loosening their grip on her mind. Until she falls into a light sleep and I'm left with her soft breaths and the feeling of her warm body against mine. It feels like home. Hours must have passed by when I hear the supple footsteps below and see Misa step onto the balcony. At the sight of my hopeful, questioning look, she nods her head.

"I removed the blades. She lost some blood, but she'll manage. I practically had to force her to sleep, but you can talk to her in the morning." Despite her best efforts to talk in a low voice, Katniss, ever the hunter, begins to stir beside me.

"Is she alright?", she asks, rubbing her eyes. Misa gives her a rare smile.

"Yes, miss. Although I'll never hear the end of it about how my sloppy stitches leave scars behind. Ma'am hates them." A compassionate, sad expression flashes over her face, but since this is her usual look, I don't give it much thought and Misa leaves us alone again. Katniss turns to me.

"Peeta, I wanted to ask you something. When we talked over that communicuff in the broadcast room, you said this strange thing, about Haymitch and the Northern Lights.", she begins and even though I'm tired now, I prick up my ears.

"Did you tell him?", I ask hopefully. Katniss nods, but for some reason she looks confused.

"Yeah. But… he freaked out. He told me that his sweetheart, who was killed by Snow, was from the Capitol and named after the Northern Lights. When she was killed, he received a card that… was supposed to remind him how her death was his responsibility. I know it's a horrible thought to have, but I wondered… Why did they never send him the body? I mean, it would have been the perfect atrocity to silence him forever. I thought maybe you wanted to tell him that she could be alive? The way he yelled at me when I suggested it… _'Everyone I have ever loved is dead, Katniss!'_" She falls silent for a long moment. When she speaks again, her voice carries an unusual mix of pity and annoyance.

"I always thought Haymitch hates everyone and everything. Life, people, feelings. But maybe the person he hates most is himself." Katniss turns her gaze back to mine. I think she might be absolutely right.

"What did you really mean with that line?", she asks. But she is so clever, my huntress, I'm positive she can find the answer on her own. She's already almost got it figured out.

"Can you guess?", I counter, inclining my head.

"That his sweetheart is not dead.", she concludes and I nod. "It's true then! She's alive, the girl, she…" Katniss looks almost excited now. "But where is she?"

"What's her name?", my tone is urging her to think, to discover. She looks slightly baffled.

"Northern Lights. But that's not her real name – it has to be a synonym. We learned it in school… They have another name…", she struggles like this for a while, but then suddenly, her hands drop into her lap and she looks at me with eyes so wide I'm sure they'll pop out of their sockets. "_Aurora borealis_."

"Yes. The wounded woman downstairs, who rescued and cured me and saved both our lives in different ways, she is Haymitch's early love. Snow didn't kill her.", I confirm.

"I don't understand. Why did they punish Haymitch in the first place? I mean, it's technically not a crime for Capitol residents and District people to have a relationship, or is it? If it was because of the force field, that's a hell of a delay… And why does Haymitch not know that she survived?", Katniss asks, her voice filled with bewilderment. Gently, I grab her shoulders and turn her to look me in the eye.

"Katniss. I want to answer your questions, but this is not my story to tell. It's more complicated than that, far more. As I would never break your trust in me, I cannot break Aurora's trust by telling you before she has a chance to do it herself. What I can say is this: Both of them think they are responsible for the other's death, although in Haymitch's case, it isn't literal death, but more the murder of a soul. This guilt is why they never went searching for each other." I'm not sure if I'm making myself clear, but Katniss seems to understand.

"I know… After he yelled at me, I left the room. But before the door closed, he picked up that card. It had this blue and white bird on it. I think he has been carrying it for twenty-three years. I saw him pick it up and clutch it to his chest. He still cares about her, Peeta. To him, she's been dead for almost a quarter of a century, and he still mourns her." Her voice is full of wonder, as if someone had just told her that magic is real, or people actually turn into ghosts. I'm not surprised.

Katniss' relationship with Haymitch had always been somewhat edgy and paradox. He had been harder on her than on me, because she refused to play by his book so many times. I used to think he saw himself in Katniss, a person who is unyielding and not the slightest bit impressed by the Capitol. In my eyes, Haymitch both loves and hates Katniss: He loves her because she is brave, a fighter, with a secret potential burning in her heart like a small star.

And he also hates her, for she is so similar to him, so bound to re-enact his own mistakes, so ill-fit for things that go beyond mere survival. And I begin to understand, on a different level, why he sometimes gave me these looks of kindness, but why they always had a slight hint of pity in them. Because I was like Aurora. I loved Katniss beyond reason, but Haymitch suspected that ultimately, my love for her would be my downfall. My one great weakness. That she would hurt me the way he had hurt Aurora, because he is what he is – surly, hostile, running from his emotions rather than facing them. Only nothing in the world is that simple. Aurora wouldn't still love him with all her heart – which she does – if she didn't know that there was genuine goodness in him. And since we are kindred spirits, I am just the same.

"I'm sorry.", Katniss interrupts my thoughts, and I look up at her in surprise. "I… I don't want to end up like that. If I die here… I don't want you to feel guilty."

"You are not going to die here.", I say pointedly. Her resolve breaks apart again and she buries her face in her hands.

"I've messed things up so badly. A mission to kill Snow… What was I thinking!? People died to protect me." I stroke her hair soothingly while she trembles.

"They died because they believed in you. Not the Mockingjay that you became. But the person whose hard shell breaks open, and inside, there is exceptional kindness, and bravery in the face of fear, and a heart that follows its own beat, not the one that is dictated." She meets my steady gaze with a kind of gratitude that I have rarely seen her show, and I wonder if she has been waiting to hear these words ever since our hardships started. If she really thinks she is responsible for all that befell us. Gently, I grab the Mockingjay uniform she's wearing by the shoulders.

"Even though Cinna did a beautiful job once more… The rebellion is not made by this –" Instead, I place the tips of my fingers, light as a feather, above her heart. "But by this.", I say, smiling. And because she has no words or tears or smiles to express what she feels, Katniss does the one thing that needs neither, but is all of them.

When her lips touch mine, it's the most gentle of kisses, only the slightest brush like a warm summer breeze. But it's enough to quicken my heart and bring long-lost memories to my mind as I close my eyes. The blazing of our oven on the day I had baked bread on my own for the first time. My father entering our living-room with a squirrel in his hand, humming an old song. Portia adjusting the tie of my groom-outfit with tears in her eyes, but a smile on her lips at the same time. Katniss' fingers moving when I saw her braid her hair once, the same way as they moved whenever she took up a bow, like a skilled musician playing his favourite instrument.

All these things flash before my eyes during our feather-light, shy kiss, but they are nothing like the pictures I see during episodes. They are not shiny, overly exaggerated or even particularly beautiful memories. They don't fill me with fear or anger. They are the most simple, basic form of happiness. Innocent like the laughter of a child. Unscathed like a piece of fresh, white paper. Risen from the ashes of my shattered mind, new and bare and pristine, like the first flower of spring.

And even though it's short-lived and her lips leave mine only seconds later, for a moment I am not a man who was forced into adulthood by the world's cruelty, or has lived two lifetimes of sorrow, or was on the brink of losing his soul. But only a boy who is perfectly happy with the girl he loves.

"Will you stay with me? Even after… all of this?", Katniss asks, lifting the sheets of paper with my prison report on them weakly. I reach up and softly push away a strand of hair that has fallen unto her brow.

"Always.", I say. She rests her head on my shoulder, and there are no more words to speak. Only the feel of her as she fits perfectly into the bend there. In this brief peace, after a lot of convincing from her, I let myself fall into a dreamless sleep.


	13. Black and White

_AN: Puh guys, I'm getting to the end of my queue soon, at least to a greater split I have yet to fill... So this is a shorter chapter in which Katniss and Aurora have an introductory conversation from Peeta's POV. The next one will be one of the Katniss' POV chapters again. _

* * *

The gentle nudging of my shoulder rouses me and I wake to the sight of Finnick and Waltz standing above us. The cold, pink light of dawn makes Finnick's skin shine like a pearl – it's almost eerie how nothing can diminish his overworldly looks. Waltz is grim next to him, sharp shadows cast upon his chiselled features, fresh scars on his face.

"Aurora is awake now. She wants to talk to you.", he says, indicating me to follow him. I get up but notice how Katniss hovers on her feet, unsure if she should accompany us, since she wasn't invited. Waltz gives her a look that is neither kind nor reproachful, but rather wary.

"You too.", he adds. The stern soldier leads us to the door we stood facing last night, but he just positions himself next to it, showing no intention of entering. Finnick gracefully hops onto the balustrade that keeps people from falling into the living room and the two of them start talking quietly. Katniss' brow furrows, but I shrug dismissively and push down the door handle. The bedroom is decorated in a minimalistic mix of black and white, which is modest by Capitol standards. Probably rioting colors don't let you sleep well.

Aurora is sitting up with her back against the bed end, an open can of food lying untouched on the ornamented, black nightstand. Misa must have removed her armor jacket and the simple tunic beneath with the skewed buttoning, because she is wearing a sloppy, too big shirt that certainly isn't hers. One of the sides has opened slightly, and I notice the beginnings of a deep, slanted scar contrasted against the pale skin of her stomach. It seems to alert Katniss too, but Aurora catches our eyes and swiftly pulls the shirt's fabric down to cover herself. For some reason, I feel uneasy and intrusive, as if I just saw something I wasn't supposed to see.

"I think I gave both of you a good scare yesterday.", Aurora says without further comment to our stares. She looks even paler than usual, but her eyes still have their silver shine. I move closer to the bed and sit down on a checked black and white chair, but Katniss seems reluctant and keeps standing there, quite rigid.

"That is a monumental understatement.", I say, half-joking, half-serious. Then I turn to Katniss. "I guess a proper introduction is in order. Aurora, this is Katniss Everdeen." My saviour smiles at her and straightens so her bare feet touch the ground beside her bed, though she doesn't seem to have the strength to stand up yet.

"It's good to finally meet you, and I'm glad you have made it here mostly unharmed.", she says, but her voice lacks a bit of the certainty it has when she speaks to me or the squad.

"Thank you… for saving me from the blades.", Katniss mumbles. Aurora shoots me a swift look that I can't quite place and takes a deep breath.

"Don't thank me yet. She won't skewer me with an arrow, right Peeta? I've had enough sharp things in my flesh for a while.", she asks me, which makes Katniss frown in disbelief, but I know what she is about to say. So I shake my head.

"She won't." Aurora sighs.

"You must have a lot of questions for me, Katniss. But before I answer any of them, let me introduce myself. My name is Aurora Snow." The silence that follows her words is almost deafening. Katniss' face seems to struggle with a dozen expressions until it goes blank as if someone had swept over it with an eraser.

"Snow?", she asks incredulously – and I remember the same shock in my own voice when I learned this secret. Aurora's face is serious and she holds Katniss locked in her gaze, unwavering.

"My father, President Snow, exiled me twenty-three years ago. The one line of cruelty he never crossed – taking the life of his only daughter. But he managed to get pretty close to that line. For my defiance and my relationship with a Victor who had made his regime look bad, he took my unborn child from me and killed the family of my love."

And then Aurora turns her back to us. With one hand, she pushes the collar of her shirt over her shoulder, revealing a faded, but clearly visible brand on her perfect white skin. The Capitol seal, crowned with the word _Traitor_ in big, screaming letters. Both Katniss and I are so repulsed for a moment, we only manage a strangled choke. She didn't show me this when we talked beneath the willow tree. Maybe because I believed her without seeing the horrible truth burned into her very skin, the living proof of all that she has endured. I can almost feel the searing pain she must have felt when the metal pressed down on her, smell the awful stench of burned flesh, hear the sizzling sound and the screams torn from her lips. Katniss must be feeling it too, because she is shivering ever so slightly.

"He branded me a traitor, so I won't forget how I betrayed him. I can assure you, Katniss, on this world, you won't find another person who understands your wish to kill him like I do.", Aurora's voice is filled with contempt, and she pulls the collar up again, turning back to us. Katniss still looks stricken, but her rigor breaks and she takes a few steps closer to Aurora.

"I am so sorry…", she whispers. The anger fades from Aurora's face and she gives Katniss a slight smile.

"Don't be. He will pay for his crimes, one way or the other. People from the ancient world used to believe in _karma_. It says this: Your deeds in this life, may they be good or bad, are going to be imposed upon you in the future. All action spawns reaction. I'm not religious, or fatalistic. But I used to sleep a little better at night, thinking that life is not just something we stumble through blindly, but rather gives our actions meaning in reactions. For better or for worse." To my surprise, Katniss moves to sit down next to her on the bed, watching her like a curious, shy animal.

"Did you come to kill him, too?", she asks with a strange hint of anxiety in her voice. Aurora shakes her head.

"No. That is a moral line I cannot cross. He is one half of what gave me life, and this one thing I owe to him.", she answers solemnly. Katniss face turns into anger.

"How can you say that? He tortured you! He killed Haymitch's family and told him you are dead too!", she rebuffs. The slightly baffled look from Aurora is directed at me.

"You told her." It doesn't sound all that surprised – I don't think it's even a question – but I nod anyway, a bit ashamed. She turns to Katniss again, her face not superior or wise as one would expect, but full of sadness.

"I'm not arguing that he has to die, but not by my hands. I imagined killing him in countless dreams. For a while, that thought was the only thing that drove me forward. That's why I understand you, Katniss. But it's different for me. I would never be right again. A part of my humanity would die with him. At first, it would feel like justice, retribution for all the pain he caused me and Hay, and you and Peeta, and all of Panem. But when that feeling of victory is gone, in the cold light of truth, only an abyss would remain. Murdering your kin, it rips the soul apart." And for the first time, she averts her eyes from ours, unable to look at either of us. She just stares at her hands in silence. Maybe there are some things even she can't bring herself to say.

"You're too noble to be real. Like Peeta.", Katniss whispers, although there is no appraisal in her tone. Then, her thoughts make a strange leap. "Haymitch still loves you, you know. He never moved on."

"That's what some people say.", Aurora notes with a hint of bitterness and her grey eyes find mine. Katniss seems to weigh which question she should ask next.

"Why are you here then?"

"To take back what is mine. My daughter." And then Aurora explains what she had explained to me weeks ago, how her daughter was given a life by technology and advanced medicine, how she is an innocent child who will be drawn into this war she doesn't know the meaning of. Katniss is very silent during her story, but listens without interrupting.

"So this is why Snow killed Haymitch's family. And why he punished him with your death. First Haymitch made the Capitol look bad with his force-field trick, and then he stole away Snow's daughter… What a thorn he must have been in the president's eye.", Katniss muses after Aurora has finished.

"His eighteen year old daughter would have the child of a defiant Victor from District 12. It was more than a thorn. It was a field of spikes." Unconsciously, she lifts her hand to her abdomen and rubs over the spot with a slightly strained look on her face, as if this touch would cause her pain. I'm pretty sure it does. Some wounds never heal.

"I'm sorry to say that we have to stay here for two days until I regain a little of my strength. At this point, we have to wait for the rebels to catch up to us anyway. We can't cross the evacuation border without them at our backs.", she says, although her voice sounds apologetic. My father once said that words can move whole crowds, but under some circumstances it's healthier not to get involved. Since I have been mostly silent during the two women's conversation in order to give them an opportunity for getting familiar with each other, they almost seem surprised when I speak again.

"The diversion they cause will help us remain undetected.", I think out loud.

"Yes, exactly. But we can't linger too long… I must reach my daughter before the rebels.", Aurora says, worried.

"Why? I mean, they are pretty strict people, but they wouldn't possibly hurt an innocent child…", asks Katniss, but her voice is not as certain as it should be.

"Because I don't trust Alma Coin.", Aurora simply answers. At this, Katniss' face lights up.

"Me neither.", she says with a slight smile. My saviour turns her gaze to me.

"Would you mind if I talked to her in private, Peeta?", she inquires in a quite formal tone. I guess she doesn't want to hurt my feelings, but I actually don't mind.

"No, of course not. As long as you don't tell her about my attempts to sing along with you." So I rise from the checked chair and wink at Katniss, who looks as if she'd been called to the principal's office in school. She probably wonders if she'll be scolded or worse, so I try to look encouraging when I leave the room, closing the door behind me.


End file.
